Kids parade the streets like flocks of geese, the same
sound, only unlike summer, their coming and going more predictable, tied to
school buses rather than a change of season, their world changed dramatically
from when I was their age, a strange alignment of planets, the advent of new technology,
carrying cell phones the way Dick Tracy did his watch, familiar faces on the screens
to whom they talk, school boys dressing up punk, school girls so utterly
provocative as to make the nuns who taught me cringe, their lives dictated by a
whole new code I’m still shocked by, coming together and pulling apart in ways
that I never imagined at their age, bliss letting them paint whatever vision
they want, while I’m stuck in the past, wishing I could go back or grow up, or
to have known what they already know.
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