My thirty year old nephew
is down at Zuccotti Park.
He chants and waves his placards
from dawn to nearly dark.

He's furious the man has got
much more than he has got.
The man works eighty hour weeks,
my nephew? Probably not.

Today he went back to his tent
as it was getting dark
He found his clothing had been robbed
by thieves who work the park.

Imagine his displeasure
Consider his dismay
that someone went and did to him
what he clamored for all day.