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