times come when I’m down

about growing older

then I am reminded

how lucky I am

 

the idiocy of youth

empty, hollow, vacant:

 

high fives, slapping asses, “I love you, man”

incoherent displays of affection

confusion over bar tabs and up-turned polo collars

leftover tensions from high school

 

slogans, quotes, stolen expressions

texts across the table

twittering, tweeting, twatting

Facebook friends

 

likes, unlikes, tagged pictures

short forms and abbreviations

what the fuck and fuck my life

be right back and talk to you later

 

“Where is the party?”

“How are you getting there?”

“Goodbye” and “I’ll miss you”

“What shirt do I wear?”

 

“Who am I leaving with?”

“Who will love me tonight?”

all the ambiguous uncertainties

of youth

 

I’ve never been happier to be me

happy for my single drink

my single shot

my bar stool for one

 

my apartment nearby

no cab ride, no shared bill

no explanations or misunderstandings

happy for my solidarity

 

happy this douchebag to my right is not me

if it was I think I would shoot myself

and hope the bullet would rip through

my entire generation

 

the ignorance, the unabashed emptiness

youth is a curse, I am so pleased to be rid of it

if I was 21 at this time

I hope that I would have the good sense to be ashamed