130/365: The Accountants

Whenever I see
saturated video or photographs
of young people looking open and joyful,
I think
Oh no, they will be dead soon,
and also that it will be tragic,
spontaneous and unjustly violent,
their future history disappeared before them,
because that's how it happens:
we love too much,
we see too well,
our joy swells too high and bright,
and then the universe clacks the numbers out
on its machine and says,
and the allotment's been spent.

This mourning of every young smile
and every light step
is melodramatic, sure,
but I am watching them go,
dying all the time,
and it is only right that they are known
before the accountants
take their due.

#365poems at Schmutzie.com