Aged whomevers of the eighties

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You’re telling it wrong, but I listen anyway, I always do.
Center the cornered plain of forty+ stands a formidable cross,
In its shadow empire men lament
Things they’ve done and attributed to others.
There’s another round your neck and
No less formidable. You
Hide behind it. I am listening, I always do –
You’re telling the story in your own sad way –
Remember now – do so better – it was joyful then. I mean,
Not for everyone but for us at least,
The whomevers. Modern life since the eighties,
You’d agree, has turned into a laborious experience
Of repetitive protocols.
Take forgotten passwords for example,
Tries in trees and locked out,
Since when is everything about lyrics,
And nothing about music.
You tell me that,
And I will not hide in the shadows
I will carry these words around my neck
The wrong way,
I always do.

Image credit : unknown

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