My Pizza Man Poem by George otto Becker

Amongst my castle in which my wallet built.
My credit rating and my golf membership.
My mercedes and the dogs I own.
Even my neighbors flock to my home.
Beside my pool there is a yard gnome.

We own our church and we have men to do the lawn.
Upon others backs our laundry is done.
Even though we go to the gymn.
We must run and run again.

Hungry as ever so we call the pizza man.
He works for minimum wage and drives his truck so clean and white.
He hustles to our home and back in the night.

To bring our order gas he spends.
If its not here in thirty minutes we call his manager again.
And we act as though this pizza our lives depend.

He smiles at me at the door each day.
I tip him not, and then he rides away.
He travels one hundred miles each day.

If his family eats I don't care.
As long as he brings my pizza so fair.
If his tires fall off it's up to him to repair.