Thing by Fletcher Young

It’s a new generation. 

Not one of people

or of events, but of things. 

Kind of like the thing

from the swamp, but uglier. 

This generation has no filter. 

The water it drinks

is of the sewer,

but the sewer system drains

into the brains

of the young, the feeble. 

The impressionable nothing. 

It’s really something!

If you were to ask me how

this happened I would tell you

to hold your tongue

under the pipe

and try to understand

what you taste

when it drips.