My Generation Reading The Newspapers

We must be slow and delicate; return

the policeman's stare with some esteem,

remember this is not a shadow play

of doves and geese but this is now

the time to write it down, record the words—

I mean we should have left some pride

of youth and not forget the destiny of men

who say goodbye to the wives and homes

they've read about at breakfast in a restaurant:

"My love."—without regret or bitterness

obtain the measure of the stride we make,

the latest song has chosen a theme of love

delivering us from all evil—destroy. . . ?

why no. . . this too is fanciful. . . funny how

hard it is to be slow and delicate in this,

this thing of framing words to mark this grave

I mean nothing short of blood in every street

on earth can fitly voice the loss of these.