This Be The Retort
You fucked them up, your crazy kids,
You didn’t mean to, but you did.
They got your faults, more than a few,
And cooked up some that were brand new.
They’ll fuck up their kids too, no doubt.
Let’s hope they won’t then wring their hands,
And pass the blame and whine about
How man hands misery to man.
“Get out early,” counseled Phil,
But I’d propose a different tack:
Don’t be such a fucking pill,
And cut your folks a little slack.
Dar Bonda is a poet who lives in Louisville, Kentucky.