nonfat no whip triple grande hot cold lip burning newspaper folds, youve gotta find prospects, make cuts, make war

we are a nation of cufflinks and newsprint.
we love when our husbands lose weight.
we complain about the weather because it's the only thing
we can't vote on.
how can i be honest without tossing rocks at lady liberty

when children get taller, they dress in grown up clothes and stomp around in big shoes to make something of themselves because all of a sudden they have to make the world work.

we hide grey hair.
we look down upon youth because ignorance is bliss
is bliss
is bliss
is bliss.
our storybooks are called the evening news where the princes trip on stones and the kingdom catches fire and we clap and sing because we never ever knew that we would be here.

i used to think my mother was born as a grown up and that kids stayed kids and grown ups stayed grown ups and olds stayed olds.
if only.
but there is something beautiful about every harvest of a generation inevitably rises from their desks and shimmies out of their graduation gowns and stops putting sugar in their coffee because we all want to make changes
we all want better and more for ourselves and each other and there is no flaw in that
but i still fancy the notion of skipping all this nonsense
and joining the circus