In Memory of Lost Time ~ Saturday, 27 May 2017

If I could start over and relive my lost youth trapped inside a bookstore never would I have thought twenty-two years would pass like a prison sentence maybe I would have been a vagabond traipsing across Europe learning every language I came upon like a linguist outside the classroom door maybe I would have sat at tables in bistros in Paris and elsewhere originally made famous by those writers of the forties who fought real battles on the front lines in the resistance and wrote philosophy yielding to none the force of their dialectic never caught on the fence offering arguments systematic and sound to set scaffolds burning fierce unquenchable flames for all eternity watching the firemen fight losing battles against the tyranny of hope romantic yet unfair organized as poets shouting epithets at police their language wrought sulphuric in workshops inside dismal classrooms with a gleaming trophy to represent their past and possible future but their present is lost tossed aside like a gift from a gilted wedding abandoned for true love intrepid motorbike gangs pass by the melee over tires burning bright mighty outlaws outside those systems of language that govern at a cost exactly when will I discover the nature of time and rise above