I should be too old to be a young one.

Too many places, too many times I find myself

in a room full of people much older than me.
The revolution grew old and it retired.
Childless.
And now we sit in rooms and talk about our past,
as if we were an important part of the present.
We talk about the old problems that we failed to solve
as if it were a new unveiling of the truth of our times.
In other places younger people read their bad poetry.
A speak of their moment.
I wish them a future free and in the open.
Not trapped in the bottle of their moment adrift.
Not changed from shaping events to becoming defined by them.
In and endless yesterday filled with tomorrows reflecting things past.
I wish that these young people would give birth to something new
that will give hope to the young people to come after them
I seek freedom from this bottle.
I would rather sink into the defeat of now than keep floating
As the revolutionary I used to be.
And if I have to be on display as a living fossil,
just to see my friends,
then at least let me leave singing that old song again
instead of telling me to buy a book in the lobby