we dance
outside in the rain tonight, laughs loud
and throats drunk on the taste
of static charge in the air.
we leap into the middle of parades
at night festivals, bump and jump
and jive our way down the street
like we’re performers let loose
from the circus show.
we yell labor union chants and ride
bikes wobbly down one-way roads at two a.m.
because we are young
and reckless,
this is our chance to shout and run
while we still can
to stay up til dawn just to stare down
the sun
before time starts to catch up
with us
bringing mortgages and yearly salaries.
for now we buy cases of cheap beer
to share and
hope the power won’t get shut off again
while I know all the best ways
to find milk crates and turn them into
furniture—but it doesn’t mean we’re struggling
or at least not yet.
this is our moment
to live to the fullest, and we know it
because we are not like our parents—they had
hope and dreams that hadn’t been shattered apart,
but we’ve seen
towers fall and presidents lie, invasions
detainments and deportations
some of us know too well
what gunfire sounds like and tear gas
smells like, and instead
of the quick painless flash of imminent
nuclear annihilation, we live under the shadow
of melting ice-caps and rising seas
slowly eating away to reveal a planet
full of holes
and a future we wish
we couldn’t predict written in stark black ink.
so while the summer is still here, we dance
and tiptoe along curbs like tightropes,
because the morning arrives
sooner than we’d think
and tonight becomes a whirlwind to ignite us.