Young Fools in the Old Night

The night is old 
but we are young
So we tap our knuckles on its door
Trying to draw it out of its shell
To coax the wise old turtle out 
To whisper to us the secrets of life
To point out the raw truth emboldened 
across each wrinkle of his face
And life's toil manifested in the curling and withering 
of his fingers and nails
This is how it is supposed to be
But instead we serve drinks to the drunk on his back
As skanks dance upon his shell
And the fools get laid under his body 
Until the night is finally through
Howling: "the night is young and we are young"
As the turtle withdraws his head back into his shell
Thinking: if only they knew.

-anna sluder

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