Poetry

Cheap memories

In the movie of the picture show
your unbuttoning was over quick,
you zipped her down and the years were gone.
One war after another—call me Caesar,
call me the son of God! I leave it all
to go back to those theatre seats
and the dumb matters we felt, high on ignorance
and desire, pushing the boundaries
that are now so far from us in every direction.
It’s a new country for old men, undiscovered
by you lot, but you’ll keep pushing until
you find it and ache for the memory
and feel of those buttons…
What bargain shoppers we become
when we’ve recklessly spent it all.

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