The Local Elite Poem by David McLansky
The Local Elite
They dress in furs
And leather coats;
They mingle with
'The better folks, '
They dine among
The restrauant class
And sip from fluted
Champagne glass;
But their ears are pointed,
Their teeth are sharp,
And though the lady
Plays the harp,
A yellow glow
Is in their eyes
Savoring that
Which we despise.
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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4/26/2024 7:57:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
a caustic cut on the tribe.