Monday, November 7, 2016


As I sit on the stool, I think
Of days I've seen before,
Of food to eat and things to drink
And always wanting more,
Of older retail checkers who
Lament their stores' displays
That fail to give full credit to
Some better holidays.
I'm glad that I am not alone
In being ill at ease
With things, although it is known
That many of our pleas
Will ring and spur no changes in
The way the world will work.
Against such knowing, hope is thin
For nice guy and for jerk.

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