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fifty, they
say, is the time
for reflection:
what is my purpose?
is there progress
here, or just
progression?
ten - twenty - thirty
forty - tomorrow
I'll start thinking about it
for 365 days I'll try
to live up to
what I must be.
meanwhile I have
an hour and a half
to be 49, just 49 -
and all I have to do
is write this poem.

lilting strains of a Mozart violin concerto
stumble drunk into the spring night air
surprised to find themselves emerging
in the parking lot of a midwestern convenience store

surprised but unperturbed
they pursue their orderly frolic
along the midtown street
dodging cars and teasing passersby

unperturbed people plow through
32nd notes like falling spring petals
pass through the doors and become customers
brushing the notes from their shoulders like snow

customers on a Sunday night
at united dairy farmers #632
scan the colorful shelves and gleaming glass refrigerators
unconsciously seeking to resolve, in commerce, each musical theme

Excessive sanctimony
Frays despairing patience
With political shenanigans
Every misleading speech
Abounds in rationalizations
With greed a social good
Ill gotten treasure twists
Among the forever unfulfilled
Where endless paranoia
Like Anthony’s ironic furor
Over gifts rendered to Caesar
But murder turns on itself

Maybe we were wrong to praise the little ones when they wore princess costumes and super hero outfits,
"Oh, you must be a real princess," we said, hoping to see their eyes light up with pride.
They grew up believing that if they only had the right costume,
They would be liked. They would be loved.
Later, it was not spiderman or cinderella, but Michael Jordan, Madonna,
Snoop Dog, and the adorable queen of the manic pixie dream girls,
Zooey Deschanel. All those bangs and oversized black rimmed glasses and summer dresses.
Being yourself will never become a movement because it's not done as a group.
The media can't find an archetype of individuality and if they try,
We flock to the stores to buy their costume.

I learned back in the days of jeans with a star sewn on their pocket
Back in the days of Peter Frampton and Farrah Fawcett
The costume doesn't make you cool
You have to start with something.
Probably money.

Joseph Conrad had it half right
the horror is that we
grow used to
the horror