Marching, marching,
to democratic drums.
Hungry mouths are open and
this is not a party and
this is not a pose.
This is a souvenir, expensive,
and I collect them
and this thing makes me happy
and I deserve my little toy.
Rich things and poor people,
face to face, colliding.
The poorest man is humming,
humming. Rich things can be spoken,
broken. I have a use for words.
Sue Ann Simar
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rich-things-and-poor-people/
