Classic Poem

III

" And what were the poets doing then? "

I have come to care
for only laborers
and poor people
and to feel ashamed
of poetry,
sitting like Chopin
on its exquisite ass
I join you, unemployed,
against injustice
(with some embarrassment)
as you pass, dejected,
in the open doorway
of a red-hot freight
with the sound of ash cans
in the early morning.

Yet it may all be for the best.
We know the business men now
for what they are.
Let their sagging asses hang
to the ground for a change
It should be good
for their material souls
and for once
set the scales straight