Yeah, life’s not bad.
In my twenty-something years, I’ve watched enough television to know that it could be worse.
Nobody aces them all – except for maybe the Asians,
and nobody is lucky in love – except for that one friend
and his girlfriend,
which, by the way, is cute but infuriating.
And I haven’t in years thought that I’m the happiest man on the planet;
don’t knock being delusional until you’ve tried it, because believe me,
those were the days.
But what really worries me is that surrounded by this sedate, albeit optimistic, mediocrity
I won’t know a great thing when I stumble, humming, into one
like the tired guy who wakes up from his history textbook pillow
and mistakes his desk lamp for the sun
“morning already?”
the clock reads 1:30
confusion
realization
“oh”
his roommate laughs.

You see here on the bright side it’s difficult to distinguish between a dull glow and brilliance;
the world has been whitewashed.
All of your favorite corner cafés,
cute and quaint and littered with 60’s paraphernalia,
are now Starbucks,
and the coffee is still great, but every time you set foot on that
corporate tile floor
you can’t help but think that something is missing,
and you spend the rest of the night possessed by that vaguely uncomfortable feeling.

I fear that I will neglect the importance of atmosphere.
I fear that I will cross the boundary between contentment and complacency.
But what I really fear is that I’ve done these things and didn’t care –
couldn’t muster the energy.
That at one point I gazed upon my future, squinting
with my hand across my brow, shielding, for maximum visibility,
checklist in hand
with clearly marked options and perfect square boxes next to each of them.
The first: celestial fire;
the second: lamplight.
I fear that, shrugging, I checked the third:
other,
left the description line blank,
drew my profession from a hat,
chose location by lottery
and selected one girl, at random, to marry
at a mutually convenient venue and time.
“Does it get any better than this?” I asked.
I turned left, starting walking,
continued to ponder my power of distinction
and wondered,
along the same vein, knowing it was dusk,
if I was headed south.