a song for the later juliets


The time has long since passed us by to swear by Junes and moons;

We have had our vague fantasies of midnights

And the attendant misgivings of mid-afternoons

We have lived the consequences of parsed truths,

(Though, in fairness, we have uttered shaded verities of our own.)

We have thrown away jeans which have passed beyond snug,

Burned our letters and buried men, wise and otherwise.

We have, then, claimed our place in that niche

Between maturation and expiration,

Resigned to the notion that the time

Where someone will appear beneath our window

To dot-and-dash the window panes with pebbles

(All the better, perhaps–the trellis is long since broken,

And the walls are overgrown with lichen and moss.)

No matter, for there is no patriarch

Standing watchdog-severe at the front gate,

And some salt-and-pepper Romeo

Is more than welcome to walk right up the stairs.