twenties
growing is a verb to fear
along with the sensation
of what follows each year:
that which accompanies
this type of (holi)day,
how special it’s supposed to be,
and the certainty that it isn’t
give the earth a smooch! I say
give it ein kuss and slap yourself silly
sing a prayer of thanks
and share a drink with Millie
wars burn all the lord has made
a couple hundred latitudes beneath
but (for now) they matter seldom to me
