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.