The Beat Generation

Day 18: We were hip, baby.
We were cool.
Gimme five and lay down some jazz, daddy-o,
and don't be square.

Those nights in the coffee shop,
making the world over,
Conforming to a standard for nonconformity,
Hip cats, hepcats jivin'
to Patchen and the skins,
On the road to Nowheresville
Behind
Our shades.
We were gone, man.
Gone!

We birthed a new generation,
Paisley-patterned rebel sons and daughters of our blackness.
What goes around comes around, daddy-o,
We got ours.
Oh, yes, we did.

But we were hip, baby,
Hip to the end.
We were cool.
Now lay down some jazz and let me read a line or two because
(Can you dig it?) -
the beat goes on.