Victim of the scheme: slipshod tax fraud and a thousand-yard stare.
Sub-sonic big bang; clandestine land mine -- unaware.
Humming bird on a cruel breeze; Mother Nature's striptease, an annual affair
Set to the tune of babbling brooks and putting on airs.

Gravel-road knick-knacks shelled out, half-off, dime a dozen.
Drywall escapades and dry rot macramé; the Seventh Son's second cousin, once removed.
Wise men (long beards) pore over common knowledge, looking puzzled.
Con men (sharp suits) clean up on dirty streets with bluffs and hustles.

A broad horizon blindsided; cautious steps and deeper debt.
Second-degree sinkholes bottom out with no regrets
While drunken madmen paint the walls with silly string and jazz quartets.
Bouncing checks that pay for thrills and dance about to minuets
Reveal the world is nothing more than cheap hotels and cigarettes.


-- Morgan Strunsky
Middletown, New York