People Person Number 1

My old friends, drowning in debt,

float past me on their way down.

Their eyes are wide with freight

as they glide by me in this clear,

liquid syrup. What is one to do?

Why didn’t they buy by the case?

Why didn’t they buy in bulk? 

Such economies when assiduously

applied would surely have kept

them out of this predicament.

I can’t tell you how many times

I’ve seen this in shows on TV.

Now, they whine they are too

old to learn a new job, too feeble

to handle a mop, but the truth

is that they are too proud to try

and sustain themselves and loved

ones in a position significantly

below mine. Fie on them, I say Fie.

They should have gone to work for

the commonweal as I did.  Now, I get

to work at 9:30 and by ten my desk

is clear.  Thirty-five years on and my

Department calls me the “Head”

but I prefer PP No. 1, don’t you?

FG April 7, 2012

All rights reserved by the author Forrest Greenwood.

This is a bitter poem, but reflects my feeling for arrogant politicians,
government employees and those who work for quasi-governmental
agencies.