* What Do We Do With The Malevolent Evil People* Poem by James McLain

they're out there,
driving Cadillacs, counting their
money like dead fish,
smoking cigars that curl up in
the air like snakes.
they don't give a damn
about your pain,
your hunger,
your rent overdue.

they laugh in the dark
of their marble houses,
while we sweat in the sun,
grip the bottle,
bite the lip,
fighting over crumbs
like rats in a sewer.

the system's built for them,
rigged with smiles and handshakes,
so what do we do with them?
burn them?
or wait for them to rot
from the inside out?