Class Act

My neighbor's in his driveway. He's assumed
A power stance. His legs are spread. His arms
Are folded. He is talking, down from power,
To the man who's come to fix his furnace
(I surmise; I see the truck). A financier,
My neighbor's rich. He'll tell you, if you
Care to listen, all about his fancy cars,
His airplane and his other homes. I get
His mail by accident, sometimes. He
Favors right-wing causes, as do other
Financiers. They take all the tradesmen's
Money, use it to enrich themselves, and tell
Themselves they're special people, better
Than the ones they milk and subject to
Displays of power before they allow
The fools to fix what they cannot.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 34 times
Written on 2020-04-08 at 21:41

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