Angsty Teens and Windshield Dreams

Angsty teen entrance me.

Entrance with niche media and poems about your dad.
Poems about your friend's dad,
how, “She’s gone bad,”
and yeah, it’s real sad
but that's the latest fad.

Oh angsty teen entrance me.

Tell about the boy at the Walgreens
and how he promised to set you free.
How when checking you out,
he traded saline for peroxide promising to be your bride.

–

Angsty teen, please entrance me.

Tell me about the girl from freshman year.
Three grades above you listening to The Strokes,
and defined by an unfinished stick-and-poke.

Then speak on her shitty boyfriend,
how, “if it were me, I’d bomb that Walgreens.”

–

Angsty teens, talk about your windshield dreams.
How you held hands yelling naïvetés.
How you promised to be
forever and free.

Yet three months later,
She’d stick her head out a cheap-ass van screaming,

“Nuke Possum Springs!”

Angsty teens, you’ve entranced me.