I met a junior—not so junior—and <br />a-many others, who knew 'him' or 'them' <br />long ago, slightly, <br />whom I know. It was the usual <br />cocktail party, only (my schedule being strict) <br />beforehand. <br /> <br />I worked. Well. Then they kept the kids away <br />with their own questions, over briefest coffee. <br />Then kids drove me to my city. <br />I think of the junior: once my advanced élève, <br />sweetnatured, slack a little, never perhaps to make, <br />in my opinion then, it. <br /> <br />In my opinion, after a decade, now. <br />He publishes. The place was second-rate <br />and is throwing up new buildings. <br />He'll be, with luck, there always.—Mr Bones, <br />stop that damn dismal.—Why can't we all the same <br />be? —Dr Bones, how?<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-98-i-met-a-junior-not-so-junior-and/
