Rare Qualities

"Crap, crap, crap..."  It all
sounds the same, they all
sound the same.  Greed and
self indulgence is their
goal, their Nirvana.  Tell
them what they want, and
they will bear your
children.  The opposite, and the
knife wielding tongue will
appear.  They go, and you never
hear from the again, which
is good as something would be
my fault.  Sometimes, when the
moon turns blue, one is nice.
Even appreciative, and God
forbid, polite.  Those people,
those precious people, make
a day good.  If only y'all
could follow the leaders.


written by Chich, Chicago's Australian Poet Laureate


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