Another silent generation

We are on the cusp

a placemark, the boundary

between the tectonic plates

of larger continents

We are neither one nor the other

Enough parts of each

to be despised

Enough parts of each

to be admired

Like the Steppenwolf

beloved and reviled

Rejecting bourgeois abundance

Ignoring your banal redundance

You forgot us when

we stopped taking your poison