Winter 1989

Listening to the Replacements

Rain is coming down

Yellow Walkman in hand

Mud and dirty ice crunches

Under each tired stride

There is no pleasure in this today

Only the comfort of routine

Yet it gives little respite today

Searching for something

In between the rain

Looking for the cold

To bring true words

To my frozen lips

In youth we struggle to find

The simple paths

We run down cold roads

Hoping to lessen the burden

Of our uncertain futures

Where little is clear to us

And we have little guidance to

What we are or what the blurred

Images of our future selves

Off in the distance represent

In later years our burdens

Will be concrete and have numbers

Solidly affixed and attributed to them

The finding of the paths

Are no longer romantic runs of longing

In the cold winter rain

But carpools and commutes

Cubicles and colonoscopies

Where we know where our path takes us

And do not have a longing to find the way

But to leave it

Gene G. McLaughlin 2012

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