Trickle Down


Trickle Down

My boss’s boss lives a few floors above.
He’s a nice enough guy, we can talk sports
but he’s used to sitting in the skybox
while I’m in the cheap seats.

His boss lives in the penthouse
with an express elevator
to a private multicar garage
but I can tell when he’s home

because there’s a leak in his toilet
he won’t fix since he isn’t bothered
but the mess gets bigger the further it flows,
raining upon the poor and middle class alike.

There’s only one thing trickling down,
dear reader, and it ain’t money.

(Two weeks until Election Day. Vote early, if you can.)

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Trickle Down

  1. Great poem, Bartholomew! Such a vivid storyline.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s