We sang: retro post-modern.
With tattoos of Lynard Skynard
And boats sailing
At high mast.
Mediocrity accepted as norm.
We came rarely,
For legal reasons.
Religion stained our blood,
And our *****
With pine smoke fragrance.
Laughter,
Few and like
Stucco condos-
Birds whispered secrets to life
As we murdered each other with silence.
Sun rise:
Gleamed positivity with
Bling chains of Christ.
We danced while naked and alone,
Another legality-
And culture was processed in the blender of commerce-
Black and white word puzzles plagued our lethargic minds.
From triviality—
Transience.