Nice day for hunting Indians, doth thou agreest, Walter? Yep. 

the long sad line of mediocrity

we explode balking into this life
a victim of his & hers mediocrity

a creation of momentary bland joy
each escaping their own senses
a struggle between lukewarm emotions
and room-temperature thoughts

oh, it was so intense that both yawned
turned on the nightly news when done
used some night cream
to remove slightly smeared make-up
and in the excitement, tossed their pet rock
then dreamt of your future:

one day our child will be in debt too, they smile
drive an SUV...or a minivan, she chimes in
yes, and the two hour commute to work, bliss
on sundays a confession about the neighbors spouse
or the shortage of clean pressed white
short sleeved shirts in the closet

the constant reminders of a sterile culture:

they'll talk to their friends at a BBQ
about their favorite reality shows
or about the NFL, NBA, MLB -there are no other sports
or yawn, Golf- a good walked ruined, I heard
maybe by then puritan attire will be trendy again,
sure hope so, love those simple whites
and complex blacks, no grey areas to consider
do admit, I look dashing in my grey wool slacks

and soulful patriotism too:
go USA! go USA! into war, over the seas
over here, over there... american flags
and ribbon stickers of all colors
pasted next to the honor roll bumper collage
all made in china

the morals of your maturation process:

we will do our best to ignore our problems
and especially yours, because our baby would never...
promise? pinky swear. okay.

and so it was drawn on that day
your long sad line of mediocrity.