Twenty-Three

Twenty-three
When he was 23 and beautiful
He liked to hang around
With other beautiful people.

He liked to get intoxicated with them,
Have sex with them, make money
With them. Among them,

He found, one did not have to strain.
Other people
Wanted to hang around with them

And came bearing gifts,
A little something. (These
Gift-bearers were a lot like

Politics itself is, “Showbiz
For ugly people.”) In this world
If anything went wrong there

Was always enough money around
To cover it. After he was through
With this crowd he started hanging

Out with a bunch of academic
Gangsters. These were
A different crew altogether:

Smart, on the main, but mean
And eaten alive by resentment.
They never had enough money

And were bitter beyond belief,
Compared, say,
To a troupe of electricians.

Freud said somewhere
In our unconscious
We are always 23.

-Liam Rector

I am a bit obsessed with my (and everyone elses) twenties especially as I've begun my slow but sure decline out of my twenties toward my thirties.

I also loved being 23. It was my favourite year of my twenties (so far) to be sure and it seems like I'm not the only one.

PS here's another

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