The teenager in me is listening to
songs that ask for freedom
on a morning after
Christmas by the beach, with a coffee
on the glass table and the burning sun
on my left leg, the sensation begging me
to notice the difference between the two sides--
the bright and the dark.
The twenty year old in me is listening to
songs of reaching, of regret
at 9am in a seaside town inhabited
by those retired and comfortable,
those who have perhaps given up their dreams.
The thirty year old thinks technology is incredible,
for allowing those of us in broad shorts
and those of us in thick winter jackets to be in love,
to be in touch, to see smiles
through frozen minus three degree weather.
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