You Can't Put Off Being Young Until

All The Unhurried Day / Your Mind Lay Open Like A Drawer Of Knives.

Give Me A Thrill, Says The Reader, Give Me A Kick; I Don't Care How You Succeed, Or What Subject You Pick.

I Don't Think I Write Well - Just Better Than Anyone Else.

My Mother, Who Hates Thunderstorms, Holds Up Each Summer Day And Shakes It Out Suspiciously, Lest Swarms Of Grape-dark Clouds Are Lurking There.

I Think Writing About Unhappiness Is Probably The Source Of My Popularity, If I Have Any - After All, Most People Are Unhappy, Don't You Think?