Their apartment was ballroom-huge,
just off Park Avenue; they were
generous with their invitations;
we, happy to partake of their lavish lifestyle,
their buffet food, their wine, their décor…
for which, we paid in a grubby coinage:
from cocktails to liqueurs,
the captive audience for their literate, spotlight centered abuse
of one another.. the complicity of it all
made my fresh underwear feel dirty..
outside, after, in the street,
the rain came down;
how sweet the rain felt.
You share the brittleness of their obscene wealth and shabby lives without saying too much. ' the complicity of it all/ made my fresh underwear feel dirty..' says it perfectly. Splendid poem. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
The food and drink sounded too rich for my blood. Damn, look at that dirt under my nails...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem. Most of us start to feel like privileged and brag about those moments like we have become one with privilege class. Your poem sheds light on some who see the real truth, that we are simply their puppet. Your poem popped up on the side of one of my poem ' I don't understand '. Thanks for sharing.