A Poem by Ben Hall
We should have rioted.
We should have sent rocks careening through the air from our slingshots and vandalized buildings with our magic-markers. We should have shattered car windows and those pristine department-store display-cases with our yellow-plastic whiffle-ball bats; left our crayons on all the hoods of all sun-parked BMW’s and Benz’s and stuffed potatoes up all their exhaust-pipes. We should have flushed cherry-bombs down every toilet we could find and flung our entire life savings (in pennies) from the top of the Empire State Building.
We should have rioted the day we found out we’d never be astronauts.