Community Service Saturday

Unsupervised nineteen-year-olds exit
Chattering happily
Going out into the world
To pick up trash; what fun!
Ere they return
I shall fling out more dross
Though this thin truth
Takes up no space in their capacious bags.
Their brains too, flaccidly empty, fluttering
Await the first lecture
First love, first broken heart,
First drama, first drunken stupor.
Soon enough they will return
With bags full,
Older, perhaps wiser.