V. I Ask Us
At which When did we become our parents,
self-convinced once more of our own invincibility’s
blood, bones, and blues?
There’s a border, we thought, between those anxious actions
of the bulls on the street and the bulls of the freight;
so at what Then did the line get crossed?
On some cryptic boiling point
our former arrogant innocence transmuted to ignorant inerrancy.
And, unappalled, we applaud our Light’s sad transformation into Lightning Bolts.
So to Fate’s position we default.
But, in our prescient prehistoric youth, weren’t we already Angels’ allies?