These unruly kids know
as much of the world as
a man will ever find out
of the inner wishes of his wife.
Life is but a pitch
and the sunset is their ball.
One, two, on three, go!
The whistle commences the match.
The better is the laugh:
a good time is a good bargain.
Add to that the dangerous sweetness
of being unobliged.
The expectation: life is
far-off in the future – ten, maybe
fifteen years. With the present past and
the future pulled near.
In the morrow, fresh and fragrant
like lilly laid lightly beside breakfast,
but rowdy rather than calm.
Life is but loud.
The reality: life is right here.
Behind their backs, like grandpa’s ghost.
Before them like a wondrous spectacle,
only they’re blind to see.