Joan Didion Backpack

We'll have to sing a song about it
bring our knees to our shrunken chests
dripping with morning dew
drunken haven for confusion
a Joan Didion backpack
compact and convex
mirrored on the inside
for insights into the young mind
straps of languishing cattle
skirts up to here in a blur
of teenage dentifrice
autotyping while listening 
pop and snap caress carcass
sing out small secret
a violin humming morning diamonds