Once More, With Feeling (Poetry)

They fuck you up — old dad, old mum
they reach that awkward age
turn ‘difficult’ with worse to come —
a mad, eccentric stage

Behave like infants and forget
the time, the year, our name
they make demands, we fuss and fret
and play a waiting game

It’s brutal but it’s no one’s fault
this twisted quirk of fate
move far enough you won’t get caught
so smart kids emigrate