I Learned

When I was four, I learned there are people you can't fool --
To be specific, those better connected than you.
When I was five, I learned my last two names, the alphabet,
and that after one-oh-nine comes one hundred and ten.
At the precocious age of six, I learned about sex.
(In another decade, I learned to appreciate the poetics.)
At seven, I learned almost everything I know about dinosaurs,
Though in twenty years, the science has learned more.
At eight, I learned that I am not special, just one, not only.
At nine I learned nothing, but was reminded not to trust authority.
At twelve I learned I'm not desired, and girls should not be trusted.
(I managed to forget that lesson a few times.)
At fourteen I learned to stop digging before the shovel's busted.
At fifteen I learned to inoculate for human hate and rumor --
Take the pep from those who'd step on you with quick, self-stomping humor.
At sixteen I learned that the present is your friend.
The next year and the future taught me that one again.

I wonder what I'll learn tomorrow.