Well, I finally got my act together, and am writing this at a reasonable hour of the day! Sometimes, it takes a while. Anyway, the last few forays into verse have been strictly off-the-cuff, improvisations that may or may not be any good, but there they are. It is about experimentation, after all. This next is a little different.
The Salesman
The man said to come in and sit.
He spoke of freedom and of money.
He told me it was my Right.
Privilige, to him, meant taking my money
to buy my Right.
If it is a Right, then why does it cost so?
Should I not be granted it, as a custom?
He offered me no answer to my query,
but invited me have another cup
of stale coffee served in the back of the room.
He invited another to sit in my place,
and spoke to him of Right and freedom.
My Right. That he sold to another.
Thanks for reading.
The Fat Kid
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