young soul

during the final scenes
of the death of irony
i could not hold my water.
i didn't expect the crowds
that lined and choked the lobby
munching corn & milling about
like sheep blocking an intersection.
i had no horn.
i swollowed my annoyance.
in the stall on the wall
someone had scrawled 
opaque predictions, 
and to the right of the roll,
marked in runes small and odd
i understood, somehow, to read:
"you are a young soul"