Until The Taps Run Dry Poem by Daniel J Robertson

My towns got sycophants,
Elephants locked in cages
That move through room
Upon room through gloomy
Weather.

My towns got tethers disguised
As statements, bereavements
Dressed as artworks on walls,
On social pages and staples
To hide the aging.

My towns got books, books upon
Books that provide no education,
Kids needing elocution lessons
A generation that doesn't
Understand poetry

My towns got a forty a day
Habit, a drinking problem
That it can't snap out of,
The taps never run dry
Around here.

My towns is the same old,
Bold in its attitude,
Reluctant going forward and
No hand will alter it unless
Those taps run dry.