Dollae Americanae

Properly finished
at junior college
you seek for Beauty
and for Knowledge
among the curly-
headed Byrons
whose frowns and woes
serve as the Sirens
that wreck you
on the Isle of Bed.
Instead of heart
you’ve lost your head
depending on the season,
to inescapable abductors:
the lifeguards or
the ski instructors.
So lovely dumb
so stupid sly
you’ve trapped yourself
and can’t see why?
Take comfort
that you’re in the fashion.
Remember, dear?
You had compassion.