My Generation Reading the Newspapers

We must be slow and delicate; return
the policeman's stare with some esteem, 
remember this is not a shadow play
of doves and geese but this is now
the time to write it down, record the words—
I mean we should have left some pride
of youth and not forget the destiny of men 
who say goodbye to the wives and homes 
they've read about at breakfast in a restaurant: 
"My love."—without regret or bitterness 
obtain the measure of the stride we make, 
the latest song has chosen a theme of love 
delivering us from all evil—destroy. . . ?
why no. . . this too is fanciful. . . funny how 
hard it is to be slow and delicate in this, 
this thing of framing words to mark this grave 
I mean nothing short of blood in every street 
on earth can fitly voice the loss of these.