I Wish.

I wish I could hold the same infatuation for boys as I do for literature. I wish my voice would catch the way it does when I talk about Yeats and I wish the inflection at the end of my sentences would drift between wonder and awe, they way it does when I reminisce over Ulysses, so eager to explain the prestige of Joyce to anyone who can stand to listen. 
I wish I was this passionate about someone who's prime wasn't at the turn of the last century. 


And I think that the boys wish so too.