the buttered upper crust

ah. well, there is that.
you middle people always want
recognition, but you're too familiar.
how can we idealize you
who look like us, dressing poorer
and with shorter words?
no, it will not do.
this guilt must be expunged by those we least resemble.

because there is this.
you people aren't so far behind
the humble starts some Harvard mums recall.
grandfathers were near equals once: embarrassing,
but we have since evolved. now in
these splendid gillless estates, we dare not stretch
our biped arms to you who might then rise
and overtake our private, private lung-filled shores.

eh. perhaps it's harsh.
but all us winners started such;
obstructive social guilt be damned.
we argue fiercely to improve
only the most downtrodden, friend:
it's easier to love the ones we'll never know.
almost help the never-equals &
never help the almost-equals.




12/17/08