as writers

it is our job
to document the times
in which we live

therefore
i have no time
for what never was

there is no poetry in what might have been

bones grow from the center outward
and mine have existed long enough
to ache with all they know
to include
what should be
long forgotten

we live out the choices we make

so few of us retain the right
to label ourselves victim
yet it seems everyone is wearing that t-shirt

these baby boomers
are cashing in their pensions
timothy leary bleary eyed
having deliberately
learned nothing