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Tuesday, 17 February 2015

A Visit From a One-Percenter

By Marc Leavitt of Marc Leavitt's Blog

It was a cold winter, in year twenty fifteen,
And we wondered each day if our spring would be green,
We thought, before bedtime - each one of us renters,
Homeowners, or homeless, and non-one-percenters.

Our money was gone, we hoped for a miracle,
Plastic maxed out, we were getting hysterical.
We’d stolen from Peter, as we tried to pay Paul,
And had over-due bills; we could not pay them all.

At Christmas, we put paltry gifts under the tree,
They went to the children, but we skipped you and me.
We went up to our bed, turned the thermostat low;
The oil tank nearing empty, the heat came up slow.

We’d spent every penny of our last jobless checks
And pawned the big TV, in debt up to our necks.
But we hoped as we shivered together in bed,
That things would get better, as our government said.

Then just as I started drifting off into sleep,
I heard a strange noise, some car horn’s discordant “beep.”
I tore open the window, saw a Ferrari;
It was bright red and sleek, quite delightful to see.

The old man behind the wheel, a fine-looking type,
Looked well-fed and jolly, as he puffed on his pipe.
He was dressed to the nines, in a fancy new suit,
And I knew from his Rolex, he had piles of loot,

There, sitting beside him, on the passenger’s seat,
Was his well-dressed girlfriend, her high fashion complete.
He smiled when he saw me, and broke into a speech,
Full of clichés on virtue those rich men all preach.

“If you want to succeed, you can do so; work hard,
Or join all the losers cutting grass in my yard.
If you tax the rich too much, it hurts all of us,
“Trickle down” ideas work, so cut out all your fuss!”

“Now, I have to leave,” he said, revving his engine,
“I hope that you’ve accepted, my wealth is no sin.
I’m off to the airport so my new jet can fly
Me to Paris this weekend. Good luck, and goodbye.”


[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Please read instructions for submitting.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post

Comments

In my opinion, this great poem shows how out of touch that 1% can be.

They haven't a clue which makes me so blue.

Great poem ... thanks

Oh, such a clever poem! And such a subject of great interest to those of us in the 99%!

We need more regular people elevated to the 1%. I am hoping to be one of them when I win the lottery!

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