Forgive the pain of a lesson.
The past will not return what you never gave.
Disappointment rides on the wake of inflated expectations
as if change waited for time.
Instead guess the next as not the same and enjoy the surprise.
The good life awaits at the end;
chasing friends finish fast.
Once, in an abrupt rebut to hospitality,
anxious for the end now reversed,
talking around but not about,
jokes discarded like the past.
One choppy in the sun and the other not running in rain,
like the favorite cocktail long after the famine vanished.
Those routinely pessimistic about events,
escape to fantasy leaving others to surmise why
and what result each change could make balancing better,
to tell those hiding a fictional future.
Ignore the famous and capable to seem pristine,
the icon of imagination gathering funds leftover from real endeavors
to garnish transit for the expected return.
