The wonderfully naive thing
about our younger selves
is how we honestly believed
we might live to be the oldest humans
this world has ever seen;
back when we weren’t yet
beaten down by the rigors
of a society hamstrung by that idiocy
of never chasing more
than a larger dollar bill
Advancement, we suspected,
was going to be cures for everything,
less work (thanks to the robots),
and free energy for our eternity
Instead, the American political theater
edges ever closer to being a sport
A few greedy pricks go unchecked
as they find new ways to squeeze us
And we stress about the cost of fossil fuels
while on our way to the eventuality
of medical bankruptcy
Yes, I still think very fondly
of those grown children we used to be;
you with your online conversions,
and me with my Socratic questioning
Making love to you once left me feeling
like I was someone worth being;
someone who’d remain overjoyed
to live forever
Making love to you now reminds me
that there are only a few safe spaces
left for me in this world
And such locales won’t always be safe
You and I are destined to lose
in the grand scheme of this thing
Whether I lose you, or you lose me,
doesn’t change that one
is going to happen; maybe both
So I’m trying to give reality less weight
Hell of a thing to find myself saying
But you’ve been a smile amid
the majority of my sorrows
And I’d prefer to now protect
whatever number of smirks you have left
So please don’t limit
your frustrated tears
at day’s end
For I am never going
to stop reminding you
that we may yet live longer
than anyone ever has;
though it might only be
in the form of words
on these pages
And even on the day
in which time inevitably
forgets us,
I will have gladly died
the same as I lived:
loving you
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