History repeats itself, they say,
but clearly this is sometimes false, because
there has to be a first event, occasion, era, day,
and first time isn’t subject to their laws.

My generation hasn’t ever been before,
these millions of us,
born to kids whose youth was stolen
for the Allied win,
who figured that they fought the war
to rid the world of tyranny,
in time to learn
that all can be exploded by a touch
or slowly put to death,
and now we yearn for half our parents’ ease,
and call it much.

Our cohort is too populous to eat,
and Ouroboros strangles at our feet.