By the Time

by the time you are reading this,

and having written it of course,

it will be too late.

You’ll have tired of the idea of running away.

Of wandering down long lanes of train tracks

simply for the adventure of it.

You’ll think going to California isn’t all it could be cracked up to be.

You’ll think you have no chance of making it on your own.

You’ll think you have no chance of being an artist, a poet, a wanderer, or a wonderer.

You’ll have lost your virtue.

Life will have lost most of its meaning

and be replaced

by a Friday night spent bed shopping

being enthralled by a Lillian Vernon catalog

thinking what fun it is to sleep in until 8:30 a.m.

being content, no, excited, no no, overjoyed by the idea of your homework being done.

You will have lost contact with your spirit life.

You may not believe in fairies.

You may not believe in ghosts.

(Although, have you become one yourself?)

You may no longer have interests.

In much of anything.

Or indeed, life in general,

because you’ve replaced your childlike wonder