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What I thought looking out the window as a kidTo Rich Furman's previous piece     BrokeTo Rich Furman's next piece

The best years 

And your sitting on your 
old filthy sofa chair, 
and the dogs 
watch you suspiciously,
the raven outside 
watches you suspiciously,
roaming though all the possibilities,
all those things to do,
that you won’t.
the adventures, poems, women.
you will not meet any of them,
in nights not of the right kind,
of madness.
nope, never, not for you.
you will lie back with your feet up,
the hours will pass.
the years float away like cardboard soul.
these are the best years of your life.

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