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At seventeenjanis iani learned the truth at seventeenthat love was meant for beauty queensand high school girls with clear skinned smileswho married young and then retired.the valentines i never knewthe friday night charades of youthwere spent on one more beautifulat seventeen i learned the truth.and those of us with ravaged faceslacking in the social gracesdesperately remained at homeinventing lovers on the phonewho called to say come dance with meand murmured vague obscenitiesit isnand't all it seemsat seventeen.a brown eyed girl in hand me downswhose name i never could pronouncesaid, pity please the ones who servethey only get what they deserve. the rich relationed hometown queenmarried into what she needsa guarantee of companyand haven for the elderly.remember those who win the gamelose the love they sought to gainindebentures of qualityand dubious integrity.their small town eyes will gape at youin dull surprise when payment dueexceeds accounts receivedat seventeen.to those of us who know the painof valentines that never came,and those whose names were never calledwhen choosing sides for basketball.it was long ago and far awaythe world was younger than todayand dreams were all they gave for freeto ugly duckling girls like me.we all play the game and when we dareto cheat ourselves at solitaireinventing lovers on the phonerepenting other lives unknownthat call and say, come dance with meand murmur vague obscenitiesat ugly girls like meat seventeen.
Janis Ian
At seventeen
At seventeen
At seventeenjanis iani learned the truth at seventeenthat love was meant for beauty queensand high school girls with clear skinned smileswho married young and then retired.the valentines i never knewthe friday night charades of youthwere spent on one more beautifulat seventeen i learned the truth.and those of us with ravaged faceslacking in the social gracesdesperately remained at homeinventing lovers on the phonewho called to say come dance with meand murmured vague obscenitiesit isnand't all it seemsat seventeen.a brown eyed girl in hand me downswhose name i never could pronouncesaid, pity please the ones who servethey only get what they deserve. the rich relationed hometown queenmarried into what she needsa guarantee of companyand haven for the elderly.remember those who win the gamelose the love they sought to gainindebentures of qualityand dubious integrity.their small town eyes will gape at youin dull surprise when payment dueexceeds accounts receivedat seventeen.to those of us who know the painof valentines that never came,and those whose names were never calledwhen choosing sides for basketball.it was long ago and far awaythe world was younger than todayand dreams were all they gave for freeto ugly duckling girls like me.we all play the game and when we dareto cheat ourselves at solitaireinventing lovers on the phonerepenting other lives unknownthat call and say, come dance with meand murmur vague obscenitiesat ugly girls like meat seventeen.
