As we slow down, life speeds up; duty fills
The vast and empty hours of all our days
With trash: driving for miles, huge piles of bills,
The crashing dreams that leave us in a daze.
The ads tell us what we and our kids need,
While others judge us when we drive small cars,
When we don’t share their acquisitive creed,
Or spend a fortune every night in bars.
They say, get rich and then life will be fun,
Just like we think it was when we ran free
In springtime fields with dirty knees, a gun
Formed from our fingers, immortality.
Don’t say farewell, imaginary friend
Of childhood, but stay with us to the end.
Mon 27 Nov 2006
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