I know neither song nor band
on the radio right now —
thank you, Universal Mind,
for New Boss.

This book, this building,
this line of argument, this
theme under review — thanks be
for the New Boss, for pushing

classic rock and kid cartoons
hard away from the tenuous hold of my
weakening brain cells. Thank you
for my hatred of nostalgia 

as a way of life, for never believing
the old days were better when they were
clearly just more days of bad and good, as
at least within my memory things

are both better and worse
and exactly the same as ever,
and much of what my peers hold sacred
seems now as dumb 

as all the old stuff we once sneered at.
Nothing’s original, really.  Not even
this thought’s original.  Especially not 
this thought, perhaps; there’s someone

out there in an office who counts on that
to grease the palms of all those they serve;
they count on the spiral turning back
upon itself and the Old becoming New again,

all the better to sell the Old
as better than New to some
and the New to Others as so much better
than the Old, when in fact it’s all

the Same — it’s all the Same:
the sales pitch, the hook set, the smile
behind the salesforce veil.  Knowing that,
I still thank you for the New Boss, Universe, the New

that isn’t New.  At least I’ve got Hope,
as false as it is, that I’m not Old myself
as long as I think for a second that things
might change. I’ll take whatever Hope I can get — 

but you knew that, of course.