Vision and Words
A man I met
who likes the odd drink
Told me to believe only half of what I see and
nothing of what I read
I try not to be the average blue collar and take
ink as the messiah, vision as concrete
I still read, look with intense eyes
I wish I had wings and the power to be wherever I
want when I want; like a ghost who can see everything as it happens
Then maybe I could believe
Every morning a woman comes and hand picks her rubbish -
Gems discarded by the elite of the city.
She takes them to an interesting shop;
There she exchanges them for a meal ticket (money)
She chooses her meal as if fine combing a menu in elegant Paris,
In the finest eatery, along the finest strip.
Her meal is that of which they (the elite)
would never consider to chew.
Her enjoyment in consuming such a meal is one which
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