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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