What’s after Gen Z?
Generations aren’t signified by the alphabet.
Gen X stood for Generation Extreme.
And everyone skips the Hipster Generation.
What’s after me?
My legacy?
Ha! Laughable.
Make someone else feel dirty, instead.
I’d rather be a horse savage
in Matt’s drying garage
than fly for free to the Philippines
to hit a guy with a closure rake.
Am I a footnote in your life
or are you a footnote in mine?
Only repenting aloud represents
the emotional edits of regret.
If I were rich,
I would buy an apartment
on E. 27th street in Manhattan
just to run into someone at CVS.
My generation doesn’t matter any longer,
so romantic gestures worthy of Gatsby
are just pyscho shit, new nose hairs,
and love is like watching epoxy dry.
I don’t even know what a 401K is –
Is it like a foot race? A much longer 10K?
Therefore fiscally I am not
economically viable and poetry is exodus damage.
All that matters
is to matter to others
that matter to you,
and then you can cross off the letter Q.
So meet me in a Super Target
On the good sign of town, in Louisville or LA;
I’ll be in the rake section,
counting the minutes until something is worth fighting for.