the energy of nothing

We didn’t possess a lot of insight,

just a lot of adolescent myopia.

We were more metaphysical than our elders

gave us credit for.

We embodied something,

though we could never put it

into an essay,

for example,

or a letter-to-the-editor.

We held beliefs,

which was unusual for a generation

bereft of a mission statement.

We believed in the

power of neurosis and

weren’t ashamed of flaunting

our talent for posing the

philosophical issues

of life and death and

having no answers.

We weren’t searchers,

although we were self-taught,

to some degree.

College was never an option.

Options were never an option.

We maybe went to community college

for twelve and a half minutes or

got an internship at a

classic rock radio station

or went to work for a

wedding photographer

as a videographer’s gofer,

but most of our days were spent

smoking reefer in the back of

somebody’s El Camino,

listening to Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”,

reminiscing about all the chicks

we wished we’d bagged in high school.

We never had a Defining Moment,

never came to any epiphanies,

held devilish anger inside of us,

but were graced with instincts of godhood.

We were alive with the

eye of the tiger syndrome and

became something of an

unsolved puzzle to social workers

who couldn’t wait to drop us

from their caseloads.

Then one day we just sort of started

settling for less

than those who didn’t even

have the opportunity to

negotiate for more,

while everyone else

had tomorrows to burn.