They expect a lot; that’s only fair, though. ‘Times have changed,’

‘This isn’t your father’s world any more,’ ‘You’ve got to keep up.’

And that’s lucid from their distracted eyes;

They don’t really see you: places to go, people to see.




No pausing to contemplate; thinking is strictly off-limits here,

$200 fine your first offense, run, don’t walk, to your next destination.

Arrival: glance furtively: more stony faces.

Learn without thinking, do without acting.




And then you’re done with all that.

A house. The American dream. Maybe a Labrador.

But; the drone of the hive, you long to do something.

You’re trapped, though. Endless nightmare.




One day you die, and they mourn. ‘A great man’, they intone

In mock grace: nobody hears. Because they know how many

Will remember you. Another one for the incinerator.

That youth who was taught to do without acting.