6.16.15

Some belated weekend words for you. (Isn't that how it always works?)

6/2/15

I am informed of the tidings of my generation.

A generic letter in the mail with cheerful

headers and group snaps,

A heavy-sounding news cast,

this is what I will do next.

I have been informed I will love the cities.

Nightlife, nature, education, free will,

to have it all and still

be unfulfilled, isolated,

damned by the boredom

afforded by the accident of my birth.

I have been informed I will spend more money,

have some debt, the better to match,

and from my perch, the view will be

vast but the wind

harder and harder to push back.

I haven’t seen enough, my eyes are slit,

my mind malleable,

so I must be informed

that it is my privilege to have been born,

and that I must conform.