He rarely saw the city swept like this
Prepared for black limousines of import
Holding people here but for a moment
While daily residents enjoy none spent
They must be important, he thought
That my world must stop for them
Even as I wait for the promises to me
To come to pass, to happen, to be
Is it our victory if so few of us win?
Why must I pay for what I don’t get?
Can I call it mine when I have no part?
How can I hope with a broken heart?
As he watched their tail lights fade away
He found himself still dirty, still hungry
Left by the passing of a beautiful parade
Realizing it was yet another masquerade
#db
Thoughts on value and the things we treasure.
