I hate talking about the past,
Things I could do but can’t
Anymore. Though I’m not ready
To be shown the door. Neither are
You. But that doesn’t change
The tone of your discourse,
How you used to do this & once
Did that. As if you pulled a rabbit
Out of a hat, and we’re supposed
To be amazed at that old sleight
Of hand. I once did things too.
But you don’t understand.
The days ahead are far too grand and
The yearbooks are trashed.