Leave it to me
Let me write what you need
I could feed you on barely enough
Left to eat
Or on dollars a day
Make it one way
Or other
Provide for you
Luxury’s
Status wealth lover
But little else I
Could imagine
We’d want
But I bet at least some
Impish trinket
Would taunt
Us to selling out vision
For dead inside living
Be happy,
Be housed
Have a feast on Thanksgiving