After all, we were young.
We were fourteen and fifteen, scornful of childhood,
remote from the world of stern and ludicrous adults.
We were bored, we were restless,
we longed to be seized by any whim or passion
and follow it to the farthest reaches of our natures.
We wanted to live – to die – to burst into flame –
to be transformed into angels or explosions.
Only the mundane offended us,
as if we secretly feared it was our destiny .
By late afternoon our muscles ached,
our eyelids grew heavy with obscure desires.
And so we dreamed and did nothing,
for what was there to do, played ping-pong
and went to the beach, loafed in backyards,
slept late into the morning – and always
we craved adventures so extreme
we could never imagine them.
In the long dusks of summer we walked
the suburban streets through scents of maple
and cut grass, waiting for something to happen.
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It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.
https://youtu.be/gIOytoFNxOU
