Pitifully

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

Who cares about your brain?  Who cares about

Your heart (assuming that you have one)?  Who

Could care about such stuff?  Just let us shout

For you to turn and let us look at you.

We won’t be able later on because

We weren’t invited to the gala as

You eat prim canapes.  We bow to laws

Of high society.  You’ll eat to jazz

And we’ll not witness that.  The canapes,

Jazz band, and you are now denied our eyes,

Us peasants as the subway carriage sways

Back up to Brooklyn, poor bedazzled guys.

  We settle for our crumbs.  Our hearts are banned.

    In daydream’s thrall we let our dreams expand.