why are some men born with minds that earn degrees the loving cups gilded plaques grace their study walls hide the cracks while their genius is turned to works of tyranny then off to market to market go selling these
with words so fiery and persuasive they steal cunningly riches no one can exceed
and why are some men born with a fate of poverty one firm bed for a swollen back year by year the bodies wracked while their obedience is had with gradual defeat by the pace by the pace and the urgency
through a muddled thought they phrase it God knows we're deceived barter for what they need
and where they go disdain and jeering for fools to call the noble peasantry
o how it puzzles me
I pressed flat the accordion pleats that had gathered in his cotton sleeves while he thumbed yes thumbed I wouldn't say caressed
the final piece a mountain's crest soon to reply assuredly
o for man aged ninety years no words to waste on sermons he'd be pleased to answer short and sincere
girl there's a nonsense in all these heaven measures it's a heathen creed so your grandma says but better to live by... drink it all in before it's dry
he ended there with a rattle cough cough I took away the long gone cold coffee cup as a trail of Camel ashes fell on the floor