ahem

i have nothing to say. but shall be clearing my throat in your general direction.

we are stumbling blind into our middle age

wishful thinking at that

blurred and bleary eyed with a shock chaser

vaguely hipster zombies

the generation that waited patiently

for its turn to howl

waiting for the boomers to get out of their twenties

while we were still in the midst of ours

and then the moment passed

we found ourselves too savvy, maybe jaded,

for group speak

passions festered become irony

the artform we have perfected

and then suddenly we're forty

the disdain doesn't hold up under the weight of children

but without it . . . we're on the empty stage,

(the boomers have turned their consideration

to what heaven can do for them)

and the spotlights are on and we're just standing there

with no script

we thought we'd be adults by now

or at least have a unified idea of it

but, with the exception of that girl who was wearing sensible pearls while the rest of us were in neon . ...

but it's not so bad - just a moment uncomfort

then genY'll rush the stage and proceed with a jumble of improv

i haven't edited it this at all. i, in fact, am not going back to read it before hit print - cuz i'm a rebel like that