Flattered

At least I'll say it was an education,
Distressing as it was. I'm not immune
To sweet remarks, fantastic and jejune,
That I'm certain to rise above my station
To acclamation, thence to lead the nation,
But deep inside I know that heady tune
Rings false, and seems as likely to impugn
As raise me past my present elevation.

What's past might have been prologue, long ago,
But now the future is a vacant lot,
A space between the night and a vague thought.
Whatever you were asking, I don't know.
I sang the old songs, watched the river flow,
Pretended we were all still friends. We're not.