Our twenty-somethings are now Facebook memories
campfire stories, timber to burn and gather round
you tell this one well, the time I lost myself
in bourbon and the yard
The evening came with me after the tab was paid
in pockets, and on my clothes, a conversation to shake
like bottles of aspirin or the thoughts you take to bed and stir
into your morning routine - coffee strong as your convictions.
I arrive home to slip off the night or take it as communion
The difference, I’ve found is water. A glass, a shower
a born-again burst of energy to catch my breath.
Our twenty-somethings taught me about existential crises
I had a 401k but I cashed it out, bought a camera
paid the tab, went searching for more stories
Our next somethings will be just that: stories stuffed
into pockets. You won’t be able to reach for your wallet
without dispelling a few good ones.