Friday, July 22, 2016

Ode to the Baby Boomers.


If you twitch in your seat
Will the world give an inch
Not likely
You remain in place
Yet ever so slightly
Tectonically shifted to the right
It happens as you grow older
Plates of perspective slide
Like greased glass
You once smoked weed under trees
At university when education was free
And protest was a luxury
Now you no longer
Weep for the spread of inequity
Only the spread of your own arse
Your stomach follows too
Protruding like a balloon
Forcing you to buy elastic waist pants
You hang around malls
Wearing socks with sandals
Watching children with a creepy zeal
Not that you mean harm
Just that pace has outstripped you
Leaving you a vampire
Feeding on your own past
You watch the stock market
Cooing over your superannuation
As if the numbers were real
All those investment houses
And ironed seam trousers
Are the scaffolding for your generation
You had the best of times
Now you pout about the future
And wonder why your children are frustrated

© shaun patrick green 2016

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