The parents are spending good money
On the kid’s education
In the hope
That in a decade or two
He’ll be ready
To take over the family business.
And what’s he taking?
Good God.
Courses in philosophy
And sociology
And the origin of religion
And some kind of abnormal psychology.
What’s that for?
They ask me to interview him,
To get him to explain himself.
Either they don’t know me well
Or they do.
So he and I
Go on a trip in the mountains.
And he says
As we sit atop a magnificent peak:
“I realize that—”
And his voice becomes low
And surprisingly direct,
Mature,
Never heard this voice in him before.
“I realize
That
My parents
Can’t understand my direction.
But I need to know myself.
I won’t go blindly through life.
Every book I open at the school,
Every conversation
That lasts more than two hours,
Even how my girlfriend kisses me”—
They didn’t know he had a girlfriend—
“Teaches me.
I know how much they want me
To live their choices,
But I’m formed
Of their deeper impulses,
Their real hopes.
I feel those impulses
And hopes
In the quiet of every night.”
I’ve sometimes wondered
Why these people
Are my friends.
Now I know.