don’t sweat it pops
your saddle oxfords and summer polo hues
don’t get my doc martens
black wardrobe
and social rebukes
you missed out on punk
and you’re not supposed to understand my generation
i get it
you were busy
so forgive my frustration
with your shaking head
because you can’t feel my beat
explosions make me happy
i carry anger in a sequined clutch
my poems are mutant creations kept in jars
not all things require a delving investigation
no one has failed me
no one has failed you
so pin your analytical boutonniere
to the lapel of
your homecoming dance suit
and i’ll wear my wrist corsage of vengeance
we’ll shake hands in blessed concord
then smile until we puke
have some punch
i spiked it