A College Collage

I.

We know less than we think
about life and drink—
but four years is forever.
As we mature, we must endure
the debts that make us beggars.

II.

Disguising his stink with scent—
the lonely undergraduate
becomes the fragrant flagellant.

III.

Into the slack-jawed maw of the future
we go: not knowing from whence or whither.
Stitched together with various sutures,
we curse at the weather
from our precarious perches.