Читать книгу Populist Elegance - William E. Scholz - Страница 2

A car ride on an autumn day,

Driving past the fields and the trees,

And the run-down homes,

In the poor part of town.

Three family members play basketball

During Quarantine, but standing six feet apart,

Shooting layups, but missing most of the shots,

And laughing it off.

What will they do when the famine hits?

What will they do when the layoffs come?

Two mechanics stand in front of the shop,

Talking but breaking the six-foot barrier,

They are at risk.

A large employer still with their parking lots full,

A company man wondering who drove up to

Check-in but turned around.

A mansion that overlooks the bay,

Carved into apartments,

But on one of the nicest boulevards in the States,

With a park for a front yard,

Who lives there?

A thousand Government programs

Were gonna' save the day.

It is all so hollow as we stand before an abyss

The promises are even emptier than before.

One can count on both hands,

How often a politician has knocked on their doors,

With a smile, a promise, and their usual bullshit.

Its more elegant than I ever expected,

A morning drive through the poor part of the City.

The cape codes have their charm,

Their decorations and warmth.

Walkers wore sweats,

And had bedhead, eyes still waking up.

Maybe the politicians didn't drive by in the morning.

Maybe they waited for a more appropriate hour,

To maximize their impressions.

They should have driven by in the morning

When it’s all so elegant.

We think of elegance as a ball gown

Or a pretty photograph,

Long fingernails and pearls,

Batting eyes and champagne or Scotch,

There is elegance in sweatpants.

Let's not forget that.

Most of the world, as they wake today,

Will awake in sweatpants, not ball gowns.

They'll make breakfast together as a family,

They'll go to work at a shop or a factory,

And they'll have to stand six feet apart from each other.

The two companions, talking in front of their auto body shop,

Broke the six feet of separation.

Maybe they couldn't bear to be so distant.

Maybe they just wanted companionship and a human touch.

Sweatpants and jeans, elegant and longing,

Engrossed in conversation, a key chain lanyard around his neck like a rapper’s golden chain.

This City is elegant and depressing as hell.

These times are losing their elegance,

As opportunity closes down for the worker.

These politicians are peddling bad solutions,

It’s all so elegant, and it’s all such bullshit.