On the Occasion of Turning 17 Plus 45

   You,
    you looked so fine in that uniform
    you could have been a sailor,
    but we didn’t change the world
    quite fast enough for that.
    We failed only at staying together,
    star-crossed, not stardust,
    not golden,
    more like hardened steel
    slowly rusting, yet
    still shining 45 years later.
    We already knew at 17 that life
    was a series of survivals.
    I wrote of you often that year,
    you were on every other page.
    I know this,
    I was happy when I turned 17,
    my happiness was you.

    This is the world we live in,
    separated,
    lived,
    loved with others
    all the while the age of 17
    never forgot.

    You,
    you look so fine.