Untitled

A wasted life of last chance lost?
Where spirit, hopeless, seedless
Gurgles in the hearth of an unlit to-come
We unumbilicalled boys
Feel the strain of 9-5 nutrition
Gouge our minds on televisual sights
That light the end of tunnels
Chasing away chariots of childhood to-be’s
With whiskey and water
When we were young we saw them all
On trains of tireless tedium
A dilapidation of swing-time dreams
And back-of-the-notebook rebellion
(And what was ours?)
Wooded talks, aborted hallelujahs
On scrap-heaps, in half-built houses
Tobacco tasting truth and untruth
Epiphanies in leather and Suede
With marker-penned verses
That unsilenced the streets?
Time, time, time
Your hands drag me toward an end
But are too feeble to disturb the days
Buried in bridges and abandoned playgrounds
The sacred soil of friendship
There is no better company
For the long walk home.