WHEN SHOULD YOUTH DIE?

The neighbors are playing loud music

It’s only 11 on a Friday

And I’m contemplating the peaceful sleep

A noise complaint would bring

But the headache of neighborliness

Drives those thoughts away

Where is my youthful exuberance?

At 25, I would have been a bit surprised at this change

I had only just gotten my first real job

And was balking at the Klatschtanten at work

Who seemed to live in a parallel universe called Stepford

At 23 I was still too busy saving the world

Living in a grass hut in a remote land, lonely and desperate for love

Realizing that the dichotomy of marriage and kids versus the solitude

Of "saving the world", could really go either way for me

At 21 I was too busy playing loud music

To notice what the neighbors might say

Sustained by lust and three month boyfriends

In the dancehalls of Berlin

And just starting to realize I was mortal

At 19 I was still completely sustained by my youth

Parties and midnight conversations and

Traveling the world still thrilled and surprised me

But here I am at 27

Trying to sleep on a Friday night

Husband, dog, house

The dream of almost every Midwesterner that I never shared

The thought of going out repulses me, though

A new country seems like just more work at starting over

And the bills I’ve been ignoring seem to be my last stand

And lingering rebellion against this inevitable transformation into ‘adult’

I mourn the loss of my youth

I do not want it or need it anymore, but I still mourn it

It is difficult to find meaning in the day to day

When your days are so ordinary

And the world around you is known

And the people are not your type and you’re

Old enough now to know that you don’t need

To waste your time pretending to be into all of that

But a good man lies beside me

And a good dog lays at my feet

And shall I not be contented?

I was never contented in my youth, anyways

There was always a longing, something missing

That most people fill with religion

I filled the void with new stamps in my passport

And now I suppose you fill the void again

Maybe I should go dancing with friends again

A last hurrah to the good old days

Maybe my back will be sore, and the music too loud,

And I’ll have to carry a drunk friend home

And I’ll remember why I chose this job, this house, this life

The music stops blaring

It is not so late after all and I can stop worrying

About if my youth died too soon

You roll to face away from me and sigh as you do so

The dog is snoring softly at my feet

And soon I will join her