Living at the shelter
With her two children,
She hears about a
Room for rent that
She can almost afford
On her earnings at the
Restaurant where she
Smiles at customers who
Have no idea she has
Nowhere to live and
Not enough money to
Change the situation.
They eagerly await
The family’s arrival.
How he loves his tousled,
Rambunctious grandchildren.
Looking out the window,
He thinks of his boyhood.
Pain and want become
Wealth and comfort.
Such distant images,
Times never to be relived.
He pauses by his study,
One small bit of business to do.
Distant decisions spawning
Unseen consequences.
Yet another family struggles
To pay the bills.
An intransigent cabal
That will not budge
No matter how many people
Live without dignity,
Starve in plain sight,
Wander the streets.
Inconceivably broad swaths
Of society condemned to
Lives of suffering and toil,
Lack of opportunities,
Just to avoid
Upsetting the wealthy.
The two pass on the
Street in front of a
Bank, neither sees the
Other, one on her way
To an assembly line
Job, the other entering
The building and walking
Into a well-appointed
Office with a plaque on
The door indicating his
Special title, his
Exceptional position in
Society because of all
The money he lords over and
Others don’t. He chuckles
With a colleague about
Haves and have nots,
Winners and losers,
Survival of the fittest,
Ruling class diversions.
Entrusted with the
Power of the pen,
He routinely, passionately
Persecutes the poor and
Disenfranchised, focusing
With white-hot, laser-like
Intensity on the innate
Shortcomings of the indigent,
Emphatically insisting that
These things must be pointed out;
A sentinel of truth and justice
Conveniently overlooking the
Trespasses of the group
He identifies with,
Protecting the perpetrators.
Picking up his
Fragile body from
The side of the road
Because nobody else will.
Wishing everyone had
Someone to recognize
His incalculable value,
How much he matters.
She peruses a beloved album
Of fading photographs and
Remembers the days when she
Used to walk to school with
Her brother and sister.
There was never any question
Whether her teachers would
Be there, her desk, books,
Exhilarating days spent
Learning, laughing, growing.
She goes for a stroll,
Passing the empty shell of
What used to be her school,
Left to decay instead of
Welcoming eager children.
She wakes on a cool
Spring morning to find
The chamber’s fireplace
Already stoked.
Outside on the lawn,
Several men lie where
They fell last night
During the revelry.
Miss Averill appears
To help her with
Her toilette so she
May appear for breakfast.
Below stairs several
Servants ensure her meal
Is perfect although
Completely undeserved.
He won’t bat an eye
At spending obscene
Amounts of dough on
Advertising or superfluous
Giveaways but he’ll
Fight to the last breath
Over paying his employees
A living wage or providing
Health care of any kind.
No contortion or legal
Maneuver is too outlandish
When it comes to
Stiffing his people.
No matter how much
Time or money it costs,
He’ll endeavor to not give
Them one more cent than
His meager mind deems fair.
He settles into bed
In one of his seven
Vacation homes,
Sleep undisturbed.
