why are some men born
    with minds that earn degrees
    the loving cups
    gilded plaques
    grace their study walls
    hide the cracks
    while their genius is turned
    to works of tyranny then
    off to market to market
    go selling these

    with words so fiery and persuasive
    they steal cunningly
    riches no one can exceed

    and why are some men born
    with a fate of poverty
    one firm bed
    for a swollen back
    year by year
    the bodies wracked while
    their obedience is had
    with gradual defeat
    by the pace by the pace
    and the urgency

    through a muddled thought
    they phrase it
    God knows we're deceived
    barter for
    what they need

    and where they go
    disdain and jeering
    for fools to call
    the noble peasantry

    o how it puzzles me

    I pressed flat the accordion pleats
    that had gathered in his cotton sleeves
    while he thumbed
    yes thumbed I wouldn't say caressed

    the final piece
    a mountain's crest
    soon to reply assuredly

    o for man aged ninety years
    no words to waste on sermons
    he'd be pleased to answer
    short and sincere

    girl there's a nonsense
    in all these heaven measures
    it's a heathen creed
    so your grandma says
    but better to live by...
    drink it all in before it's dry

    he ended there with a rattle
    cough cough
    I took away the long gone cold coffee cup
    as a trail of Camel ashes fell
    on the floor


    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words