It was never the best of times, and it was never the worst of times.
It was - is - simply, the times.
Certainly not the most memorable at any rate.

But oh, the wet quicksand mud beneath our feet
steals our shoes from us
if we are in too deep,
as we always are.
Many times I have to dust off
my fish netted spaghetti legs.

And still, we dance like hooligans
in the middle of the soggy road.
And we beg for the rain
to keep pounding on.
And we will never stop.