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Free Parking

We often
lounge on our parents’ cars
in gravel back parking lots,
with nothing but
bare feet and three-dollar sunglasses,
kicking rocks and observing
and fervently declaring.

We speak with conviction,
detailing passionate but pedestrian ideas,
addressing each statement to the world at large,
yes indeed; we shout unabashedly
the solutions we have formulated
to cure the earth of its ills.

We speak as if
we alone
know the answers,
glancing pityingly at every stiffly-walking suit,
because if they knew what we knew,
they would live so happily-
likely in a self-sustaining commune
with free health care and fair trade
and indie rock music,
eating popsicles in athletic shorts.

Everyone would do that,
if only they knew.
How unfortunate for them.
Good thing we have
everything
under
control.
And when we rule the world,
our lives will be
good, better, best.




















MEANWHILE
tobacco-stained fingers shuffle cards
and spill a fifth cup of coffee.
The old men sit,
staring
silently,
jealously, pityingly,
and they know.

They have assimilated most of
what should be known,
but to earn the information,
we must live
three-quarters
of a century.
Who has the time?

So we sit and shout,
and they sit and stare,
and they couldn’t say anything
even if they could.

Plus, we can’t
hear them over
our own thundering, clanking,
innovation cycle.

And so,
some of us know everything,
some of us know nothing.
cards are shuffled,
complex issues are summarized,
cigarettes are smoked,
rocks and words are thrown,
and nobody accomplishes much.

But that’s to be expected.




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