What is there left of love
In this world, when the
Fun is reduced to cans kicked
In the back yard, with Dale and
Alex fighting over mustard
Or mayonnaise, and you take both.
Remember when sunshine was not
Lethal, when friends accepted you
By heart not by money or looks?
But this is now, twenty fourteen
The time for pleasure is reduced
So strike into the comfort zone
Regardless of consequences. Love
Dreams you had when you were fourteen.
Because twenty is now the time
To take leave of love left in this world
And, rather, love casual leaving,
Regardless of how lost in hasty traveling.
Short-sighted by wanderlust, they cannot see that
To pack, to repack, and unpack
A growing baggage claim
Inevitably means losing more than a few
Senses of belonging while having to keep
In touch with itineraries overcrowded
By kicked-can, expendable things:
People, some places, oh but not things!
Nouns should now be defined as
Things only of commodity worth –
Someone revise the syntax of
Twenty fourteen! Why not dream up the
Pleasure of friends by heart,
Of fun without money or approving looks,
And return to love – the youth-imparting