Like acne on the earth
The metropolis grows
To house and feed the masses
Only the masses are in
Cardboard houses on rainy days
And planted in the park like grass
on sunny ones.
Fed by urban missions
With macaroni and cheese under
The eyes of the crucified one.
'God loved the world so much He
Gave His only begotten son,'
And the mission's doors are closed
tonight.
It's going to be a cold one,
Sleep tight and curl up like
feral cats.
Like a virus poverty spreads
And no one can afford a
High-rise condo,
So they stand empty when shelters
Are turning people away.
Like acne yuppies dot
The surface of another privileged pavement
River that courses between
Single-family homes taking in boarders.
High society chicks pick up pennies
Off the sidewalk when no one is
looking,
Knit me another sweater mom
It going to be a cold one
And sleep tight.
No comments:
Post a Comment