each
protest is something they
made up.
barely read,
a thimble of history,
or knowledge
in their young heads.
they see to the tip
of their hand,
no further
front, or back do
they understand.
each generation believes
they've invented
thought,
invented art
and music, sex.
and so it goes, as you sit
calmly
at your window,
pondering
what's next.
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