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