I feel I owe the kids apology:
we meant to change the world in ‘68.
Somehow my cohort lost its energy;
we settled in for goods instead of great.
Apparently the time was wrong for us.
We marched and rioted, kicked up our fuss,
but half a century has lapsed and still,
the jury’s out about our civic will.

My dears, your anger’s earned. Your rage should heat
the beaker of our culture even more
than we did, booming, bragging, cocky, sure
our numbers and our vigor would unseat
the emperors. But we were kids, and you’re
up now, at 38 and 44.

This entry was posted in Aging, Civics, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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