Do we care about each other

as much as we did when we were kids,

or our parents were actually kidding,

when suggestions were made,

referencing passages from certain books,

‘love thy neighbor’ or some tripe

commentary that apparently was meant,

to guide us through the backyards

of a precarious, well-shielded youth.

 

So now today, I in an annual,

a memory of purpose,

the occasion arises with frequent

consistency.

I cherish the words of my elder,

give grateful pause to their

gracious truths.

Because when I step out the door,

the world seems eerily strange.

 

I wouldn’t object to ten minutes,

not even the Warhol fifteen,

just part of a quarter hour

to refresh my memory

with how easy it was,

how I felt so safe,

inside the eyes of people

who seemed to care about

life.