My Dream
Now a surreal memory,
Dim and clear at the same time.
They stood around
The mighty table.
Men who serve the masters,
No matter which side of the table.
Each man and precious few women
have a part, a vote, a piece of power.
The vote went on for an interminable duration,
Beards long, graying men stood stalwart against their opposition.
They died standing or sitting there, firm in their opinions,
Petrified sculptures, and we slaves all watched in horror.
Waking up, I shook off the dream and
the 6 am radio news played the news of the day.
