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
