~
A pencil in hand, I stand, I am
a man of the Twentieth Century.
I don’t understand your culture, your land;
though, it must be rich, this sudden switch,
but I know it just can’t be penury.

~
We talk the same talk – or we do somewhat –
but your penchants all leave me to wondering.
I don’t understand, are you a polyglot man?
Have you goals, or are you just meandering?

~
I don’t understand, I am a man,
a man of the Twentieth Century.
It might be apparent, I may be your parent;
but you are so mixed and so sundry.

~
It might be apparent, that you as inherent
are not of the same land and century.
So where do we go  to get on with this show?
It’s apparent that you are my progeny.

~
But I swear it’s your culture and…