Unlike many of my generation Who came to believe that Our elders lied to them, I believed, then and now, That the people I grew up among Were sincere and conscientious, As well as intelligent and hard working. In youth, I did not know The hypesters who, since, Have somehow come to own And suffocate our World they So infest. Yet, perhaps in just that, I long have come to believe That something which, even in youth, Distressed me about the adults And standards of the World I then knew Was, I eventually came to see it as Wishful thinking: “The Depression is over; Evil died with Hitler.” Prosperity. Progress. Play by the rules, and Honest effort will succeed. And in my childhood, my parents’ Generation’s prime young adult years, It was more true than It had been and growing more so. But it turned around. The hypesters Stole glitz, then glory, then Sold stock in that tinsel For capital to buy apple orchards, And vertical bread corporations – From wheat farm (and its Federal Subsidy Program) to supermarket Shelf space, and General Motors’ bankers, And the biggest petrochemical conglomerates. And their own souls. The hypesters Believe their own tricks. I sympathize With the sincere wishful thinking Of those I knew as adults When I was a child. Those, however, Who now believe that bread and Oil, apples and glitz, glory And the means to any life at all, Are interchangeable, and value Of PR hype and a roof Over your head measurable against Each other solely by sale price, Are lost in a wishful thinking Nightmare so potent that Who and what will be left to wake? And I wonder the more, as I see Some…substantial minority I think, Of young people living in ways I would not have even when I was young, Yet seeing, to live so, in ways That somehow do make sense In the one step at a Time That all life is, even in a Time When madness prevails in the World. What follows the uranium butterfly’s flight While its landing field decays to lead?