early twenties and ancient

does it not concern you
that admidst a bottle of light dark beer
and a book of ceaseless luther repetition
law-gospel-law-gospel-law-gospel
and even extra-salty tortilla chips
and sweet and spicy salsa,
puppies and playthings were of more concern to me
than theology, politics, closing ceremonies, or the turmoil of the world?

neither drunk nor particularly faithful tonight,
it was while browsing animal shelters and apartment shopping
that the particular weight of this world
felt particularly confused and befuddling

not the controversies over hamas
or the shooting at a church in detroit,
nor the violence and the sand and the downed helicoptors in iraq,
not even google and china
or the discovery of a fossil of some efficient swimming animal
that looked like a beaver and a platypus

none of these brought a tear or a murmur of concern
to an otherwise comfortable, if not dazed brain and heart

but the memory of minneapolis, and the wintertime
cold and wind that froze your tearducts,
or the humid chicago sun in millenium park,
reflecting off of the bean
and the fear that by the time real life kicks in
(and life happens in real houses, not apartments;
where there is income, stability,
dogs, children)
it might all be too late to do anything with it:

that's what made me cry.