who are these undernourished folks you have invited into my house?

i did not order a parquet

dance floor.

a bar full of scotch

one thousand laptops

Or an orchestra of ten.

yes your friends are sweet

i can’t deny

though oddly

not one will look me

in the eye.

their words start my heart

but why are they so sickly?

perhaps they need a bit of sun

to go with their bright souls?

when I become governor

i shall proclaim a day

of poets frolicking outside

swimming in the sea,

embracing their physical selves.

the tanned and toned must

go indoors

and learn to feel again.

my poets worry me.

their souls are body builders

their hearts yogis

their voices magnificent

but their bodies

abandoned.

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