PoetPhoto by dacian dorca-street photographie on Foter.com / CC BY

Winning Song

So you wrote a winning song,
the kids wag to it in their hordes,
is it a classic now, does it still set the air on fire
or does it drain the soul
like an homage to your younger self?

Is it hard to feel the angst,
to don the ripped jeans and flannel,
to growl and grunt and rave,
with a Suburban in the driveway
and a soccer game on Tuesday?

Girl, you really got me going,
but does she still,
or have the divorce lawyers
and years of litigation,
stolen all your verve?

You try to summon animal spirits,
make the blood sacrifices,
pour out the sweat and tears,
but the anxiety of mortgages
is not the same as being what’s next.

There are no middle aged prodigies,
there’s no profit in potential for pensioners.