Surrender to the Tragic

In this world, idealism is only small thing.

These towns will surrender,

masquerading love before a fermenting moon

even as the heart of the last jukebox fades

It is only the beginning and ending of life that has ceremony.

The stiff, cracked, sidewalk in between lets the marbles seep in

so that their slim glimmer in the darkness inspires the bitter memories not to die.

In this world, idealism is only a small thing

Paper wisdom burns, even in a cold wind.