how that happy, now?

i've seen where the side-walks
stop.  it was
very sad.
a tear-streak
at the jaw-line.
i go
and muddy my toes
where new men
will walk.
this is a a perennial
habit,
an obligation to
the wander-struck
starving children
and where they
will find the
answers we've hidden
with history
and song.

from the jameson
to the bud
(the real bud)
we find a picture
of us tomorrow
(where life really begins)
and say to ourself
'How that happy,
Now?
Not then?'

we know sacrifices
must be made.
and regrets are made
from sacrificing
too quick
and well.
remember
the boy
who burned his boat
to live in
paradise-
before he
found
the monsters.