She is on the couch,
watching her laptop
as if it’s about to do a trick
or reveal the meaning of life.
He is closed in his bedroom
with his books and guitar.
This goes on for hours.
“Kids these days…,” is an actual phrase
forming in my head.
Wake up.
He is writing a new song.
She is searching for her way in the world.
They are forging their paths,
while reclining.
After all I tried to teach,
they learned this:
To value being comfortable
on the journey.
Puff Of Smoke Poems 