O Week

Thrilling as; youth facing the taunts of death,

As sweet as sweat during love making.

And sluggards talk of a youth’s bitter divide,

The slaying of recklessness

Written with a guarantee that dismisses

the threat of the death of freedom,

Of which youth now taste.

 

And their skin of which they caress,

The plastic that buys the car,

The plastic and the artificial

Is as perfect, as their youth prefers.

And though frightened of a lonelier self

The near-grown babes do not restrain

The terse oracles of their immortality.

 

After mariachi love, fragility survives

That looks to elders with one eye

The eye closest to a matured sense,

For youth to grow bone upon hearts

And cope with a strange loneliness,

When friends drift into digital space

Or lose themselves in cold refrains,

And spreading like pollen in a breeze.

Love abandons, and reinvents

As rougher skin, stretching slowly

Over beds of wooden slats and down.

Some that love together might stay, even

To think of children as their future.