“I’m not sure how many schools prepare students for this kind of love.”
Again this morning news out of Ukraine,
revanchist Russia shoots down helicopters
and NATO loads its fearsome teleprompters
—we’ve been here before—we’ll be here again.
The world is fucked, but in its rubble and pain
ordinary people find the time
for family, sex and music, petty crime
—for love and death and staying entertained.
There are great loves, and there are great books;
let’s not deny the world its poetry,
but let’s not pretend the world is aging past
some youth—passion moderated, looks
declining, romance gone, because some twee
old journalist got his divorce at last.