don’t start talking shit to me
about the kids these days. 
i don’t want to be that bitter broad. 
save your jaded observations
for the hipsters at the bar. 
i’m sure they think you’re brilliant 
about four beers in. 
i think you sound like your bigoted Daddy
in a slightly slicker package,
still frightened of things you don’t understand. 
don’t come at me like – 

“where do you find the patience?”
it’s a stupid question
and you’re the one stomping soundly
on my last nerve. 
you’d try to train up young’uns
like stray, pitiful, puppy dogs. 
i’d never make them sit and stay. 
there’s enough obedience going around. 
i’d rather see those kids got feral
and form a loyal pack
to roam the countryside
sniffing out condescension 
and tearing it right out by the throat. 
i’m ready for this generation – 
self-reliant and on the prowl.