Fellow Kids

Every day you want
to be younger, to be

alive again. You haunt
the imagined joys

of your past, fictive
memories, happiness

manufactured
by your nostalgia

-obsessed mind, songs
from a decade ago

and the old movies
you never even saw

then. You sprint
to keep up, but protest

the things you deem
too new for you, too

alien. You never feel
at home here, your own

time and space.
You reopen the same

doors each day, expecting
one to lead someplace

different, old and young,
a recast history as happy

as your nostalgia
and a new future, kinder

than the one you’ve grown
tired of waking to each day.