tonight we ride like the westerns
a bug-eyed wagon, clown-car full
of pedestrians
we are the thirty-somethings
Neve's toes are brightly painted somewhere
grown out of the alternative cynicism
we wear so well
This party of five will ride
outrun our 90’s depression
down 72nd to Cain’s and other
an ear to the grinding stone
finally we can afford the tickets
but not the cost of a meaning
to it all
or of a hope
to find one
tonight we ride orphaned
careless, regardless
of tomorrow.
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