If This is Boston, I'm Tingling.

I am thoroughly feted,
and I must confess
that I wish I'd gotten more sleep.

A college of fresh faced folks,
and an endowment to choke
most folks dead.

Last night a party,
wine, fine rum,
cheeses, finger foods, cake.

And then some young 'uns
took me out to a club,
where they take, what they call, seminars.

We drank a variety of tequilas,
and they asked me the normal questions
about publishing, teaching, traveling.

These are young people,
still in grad school,
still hopeful.

At one point I said,
"Don't you read the Crampicle?
Don't you know you're doomed?"

But they don't care to hear.
They smile, order another round,
and help me get hotel-bound by 3 am.

Now, I shave, shine, slurp up coffee.
And I think I need to scare them.
They need to know.

"It's a different industry, pups."
That's what I want to say this morning.
Will it break their hearts?