Tonight youth blistered and burst in our callous adult hearts.

Barely 18 and starting to show symptoms of old age:
bearing couches like anchors,
                    smoking pipe tobacco,
                                             asleep at 9.
Our greatest concern,
the remote control chieftain,
stood frozen before the 21st century centerpiece, then said,

   brusquely:
           "don't work"
grunts around the room

So we took to the streets again
and walked until we fell into a groove
on the culdesacs that mapped our childhood.

We were mountain lions, pack instinct, shoulder-blades rising
and falling smoothly as morning bird's melodies

Though I remember now,
they only sing "Keep Out, No- trespassing"