as writers
it is our job
to document the times
in which we live
therefore
i have no time
for what never was
there is no poetry in what might have been
bones grow from the center outward
and mine have existed long enough
to ache with all they know
to include
what should be
long forgotten
we live out the choices we make
so few of us retain the right
to label ourselves victim
yet it seems everyone is wearing that t-shirt
these baby boomers
are cashing in their pensions
timothy leary bleary eyed
having deliberately
learned nothing