They call us the “Me” generation
(like we invented narcissism).
Critics inform me that I am
self obsessed, passive, and impatient—
eaten up by consumerism
as much as I am defined by it.
They call me dead from the neck up,
disillusioned of the beauties I now take for granted.
But I have never felt so much alive,
and the world could not look more beautiful
than I am striving to make it.
So if it’s selfish for me to want more for myself
than the legacy of poverty and depression—
of social unrest—
my parents left for me,
then give me my tar and my feathers.
Give me my crown,
and call me Greed.
Unfair, to some extent, after all, I’m in the X-gen, but true in so many ways.