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In the after years we ran away to nations and nation states, lectures on American imperialism and the affairs of Central and Eastern Europe, Turkey's fight and London's ambivalence, after hours we decompressed, fueled on euro birra coined from 24-hour vending machines on the stone steps of the old church, Irish pubs across the river filled with Americans we loathed, there in the wood-benched alcove, under 90's tunes of the American dot-com era, before the money woes, of another time, we cheered on Fiorentina v Milan, over-hyphenated societies and the inability to understand the plight of the ordinary, in the messiest of times our only anthem was living


no one ever knows what they're going to be when they grow up, even after they've grown up, it was never about the destination, the end result, it was always about the continuation, the continuum, they didn't all hear us, they didn't all understand but there was admiration, envy

plagued by unrest, begging change to the world in which we'd return

we came back to the world as we'd known it, over-worked Americana in over-populated suburbias.