You’re 23? Oh my, oh me!

Fit­ter, hap­pier, more pro­duc­tive,
com­fort­able,
not drink­ing too much,
reg­u­lar exer­cise at the gym
(3 days a week),
get­ting on bet­ter with your asso­ciate employee con­tem­po­raries,
at ease,
eat­ing well
(no more microwave din­ners and sat­u­rated fats),
a patient bet­ter dri­ver,
a safer car
(baby smil­ing in back seat),
sleep­ing well
(no bad dreams),
no para­noia,
care­ful to all ani­mals
(never wash­ing spi­ders down the plug­hole),
keep in con­tact with old friends
(enjoy a drink now and then),
will fre­quently check credit at (moral) bank (hole in the wall),
favors for favors,
fond but not in love,
char­ity stand­ing orders,
on Sun­days ring road super­mar­ket
(no killing moths or putting boil­ing water on the ants),
car wash
(also on Sun­days),
no longer afraid of the dark or mid­day shad­ows
noth­ing so ridicu­lously teenage and des­per­ate,
noth­ing so child­ish — at a bet­ter pace,
slower and more cal­cu­lated,
no chance of escape,
now self-employed,
con­cerned (but pow­er­less),
an empow­ered and informed mem­ber of soci­ety
(prag­ma­tism not ide­al­ism),
will not cry in pub­lic,
less chance of ill­ness,
tires that grip in the wet
(shot of baby strapped in back seat),
a good mem­ory,
still cries at a good film,
still kisses with saliva,
no longer empty and fran­tic like a cat tied to a stick,
that’s dri­ven into frozen win­ter shit
(the abil­ity to laugh at weak­ness),
calm,
fit­ter,
health­ier and more pro­duc­tive
a pig in a cage on antibiotics.