we’ll sit in a kitchen, mugs full of warm vodka
and we’ll respect each other and will disparage our bosses
we’ll get incensed by each sip, becoming so resolute…
and having reached apotheosis will suddenly abate,
embrocate our drunk cheeks with penitential tears...
and will put it on pause… afraid to get to the end (or beginning?) of it,
like a movie that becomes more scary as the end nears…

how did we suddenly became so jaded… older, perhaps?
and where did all those “always” and “never” go?
and the loud, daring “I will be”
gave way to a quiet “i am…”
and all we can feel, as we watch our friends and illusions go,
is a mix of gratitude and dumb apathy “i am here… i am…”
30Sept.,2004