TAPAN SHARMA
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OLD SCHOOL
Another day, another dollar in debt My parents started with nothing. How’d I end up with less? Used to be the head of the class before the whole scheme collapsed. Top of the pyramid, no peers amidst me Now I peer into the mist, appears opportunity must have missed me. Can’t seem to dig myself out of a dead-end career path Turns out it’s pretty crowded on the so-called right track Go-getters, goal-setters, thousand-dollar books in my knapsack, Every generation wants the next one to break its back Keep it moving, single file to the diploma mill, now Do the graduation dance in that dunce cap and gown I should’ve been the crass clown instead of wearing the class crown Google “what was my 4.0 for?” Page not found Trade in your participation certification for a 401K, but in the interim it’s hard to carpe diem with a car payment due in the AM, So far in debt, lenders can’t seem to leave me a loan Feel it in my bones I paid too much in tuition Now a 9 to 5 is the new 25 to life, death waiting in the wings, coroner in a corner office Postmortem: a deadly cocktail of being broke and boredom Put us in cubicles and tell us to think outside the box Incestuous nepotists banking on daddy’s direct deposit While the rest of us have to make a name for ourselves Tokens in their broken jukebox playing the same old song Head down, chin up, do everything you’re supposed to Put your hands up if you’re down with the old school.
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Volume 17 • 2022
