Memories continue to assuage the longing
not to say goodbye to the days of youth:
high school outings focused on downing
alcohol and searching for sacred Truth.
Fulsome ladies crowd the plays of past;
that script was more than I did appreciate,
the stage could barely fit that heady cast
and dearly I was sorry that role to vacate.
But innocent wickedness gives way to love,
family fills the seats drinking buddies left,
older friends depart for heavens above,
still I’ve never found myself the least bereft.
We remain here, I who write and you, reader;
let us dance with St. Vitus in spasms of joy;
if other think our motions are all the weirder
there are distractions we can easily employ.
