reverie

this is our identity, the golden age

we sell each other our dreams at a discount
along the avenues, in the bodegas,
at porch sales, in the cathedrals

unweary but dazed, heads down

but our dreams are lucid, vivid,
reworking the events of forty years ago
with remarkable clarity

now you are on the campus, in a single room
the girl who broke your heart
explains it all, giving particular attention
to your defects

now you are marching down Broadway
with your comrades in arms, the heroes
of the revolution, unabashed, unbowed

on a bicycle in the golden autumn
when the sap flows, crisp, no humidity
clarity of thought, ambition, present in the moment, electric perception, in a great good place your thoughts are noted, confirmed by wise elders

now in the golden age what price our own wisdom?

we market our dreams at a discount
in silent auctions