the old RCA clicks on again
the men seem handsome
who sing For My Own
on Ed Sullivan

the house is as neat and tidy as it ever has been
or perhaps ever will be
they didn’t care about its neatness then
nearly as much as they pine for its neatness now


they/we let it fall into disarray
when the tv got bigger
and the music got louder
and the years passed in the blink of an eye

and we all started to feel
we should shout to be heard
even if we had nothing to say

so we find ourselves at Infinite
again, and again, and again

trying to escape

although we rarely remember
from whom
or what
or why

hoping to find the future

although we rarely live a present
whose future matters

It's time for us to go
And find ourselves first
Before we so eagerly seek each other