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flamingsword"Merry Capitalism!", says the bell-ringing man, vest bright as a winter cardinal. His pot is full of lies and gold. His silver bell tells lies cheerfully. Won't someone help the poor? Oh, won't you help the poor?
I search for the next shiny thing, the next, the next.
Last year I went home stuffed with candy and starving, peckish as a starling in the bleak mid-winter.
Is there a party!? I have a fear of missing out, you see. Is there a dinner? A feast? A banquet in my honor? I must make up for all that I lack by stuffing your mouth full of shiny things.
I look up at the weak sunlight, at the tattered gold that is half a lie. Gold and lies, always such close friends.
One is silver and the other is gold ... that was in a poem I read as a child. I don't remember what it was about. Maybe I can buy another copy.
Maybe I can buy another book to collect dust on my shelf, gilt-edged pages full of words. Words with edges and guilt. Have I read any of these books? I certainly tell people I have.
I need a new thing, the newest and shiniest thing. I need to give you the thing that says that you shine, too, but all I have in my hands are candy wrappers. It is inadequate. Am I inadequate?
Like a magpie, I flit around looking for bits of bright tinsel, wrapping paper to brighten a gift that I'm sure I will find soon. The perfect gift to make you love me.
You look so terribly thin, lately. Merry Capitalism! Can I interest you in a piece of candy?
[Copyright me. Only nonprofit uses allowed.]
I search for the next shiny thing, the next, the next.
Last year I went home stuffed with candy and starving, peckish as a starling in the bleak mid-winter.
Is there a party!? I have a fear of missing out, you see. Is there a dinner? A feast? A banquet in my honor? I must make up for all that I lack by stuffing your mouth full of shiny things.
I look up at the weak sunlight, at the tattered gold that is half a lie. Gold and lies, always such close friends.
One is silver and the other is gold ... that was in a poem I read as a child. I don't remember what it was about. Maybe I can buy another copy.
Maybe I can buy another book to collect dust on my shelf, gilt-edged pages full of words. Words with edges and guilt. Have I read any of these books? I certainly tell people I have.
I need a new thing, the newest and shiniest thing. I need to give you the thing that says that you shine, too, but all I have in my hands are candy wrappers. It is inadequate. Am I inadequate?
Like a magpie, I flit around looking for bits of bright tinsel, wrapping paper to brighten a gift that I'm sure I will find soon. The perfect gift to make you love me.
You look so terribly thin, lately. Merry Capitalism! Can I interest you in a piece of candy?
[Copyright me. Only nonprofit uses allowed.]