TV dinners stacked in the fridge;

pizza, chinese, delivery service numbers

on a crumpled, much-loved piece of yellowing paper

No drawings with stars and flowers

No crayons with paper peeled down to the nub

iPad, iPod chargers laying among

the tangled mess of headphones

closed doors with golden, pristine knobs

and behind them, high society people with

tight mouths and flawless faces preserved by

chemicals

children on leashes, or out of

parent’s sights,

no longer begging for piggy-back rides,

roaming around looking for someone to pay attention

to their stories

Join the elite;

What a time to be alive!