Mockingbird

He sends you a story, not long, not perfect, but you think, there is work here, there is labor and ambition and he's gotten somewhere. You read it, leave red notes in the margins, admire his efforts too much to remember your envy. Count down days till unknown landslides, you are sure they will place you somewhere better, it's only the tumble that's scary. Drink budweisers in front of the future of America yelling across the tv screen; my generation must have something to say, there is a war going on in our midst we will not be left out. We will not go unscathed. 

When you look back at your days, 

What will you wish you had done?

Go do it.