I had another mental breakdown in the bubble tea store

may be the most Gen Z thing I’ve ever said,

since I can’t seem to master the usage

of “no cap,” or maybe existential dread

is more of a millennial affliction, but the kids

seem pretty far from alright, or maybe

I’m just stuck between the two, between

the rising cost of housing and hugging

a Squashmallow for dear life, caught partway

between turning twenty-six and looking

sixteen; part of me still thinks of Taylor Swift

as a country artist but I was six the first time

I wondered if a bullet could pass through

the classroom bookshelf – or fuck it,

what do labels matter anyway, maybe

(and this seems the most likely)

we’re all on this sinking ship together,

and we should start filling these holes

with tapioca pearls and caps

or no caps or legislation and hand holding

or really anything that helps us

to hold ourselves, each other, together

against these never-ceasing swells.