Is there a time and a place to be selfish?
Surely before kids, or when alone in small snatches
and with the state of us, you’d think we were
a little more thoughtless, our penchant for California
a need for yearly aeroplanes, a refusal to reproduce
Do we have it all worked out?
Are we more special, lucky, made to last
I never felt blessed, only human at best
but if your luck rubs off on me
perhaps you’ll stay, perhaps they’ll let us be
selfish in perpetuity, blissfully happy