Dust
(I'm not trying to make this thing rhyme
But, at the same time,
A little interlude like this
Is not amiss).
We interviewed a Mayor and asked gently, 'Dost
Think, my lord, that thy great city is a pleasant place wherein to dwell? For, if
not, why not?' And he answered, 'Dust!'
Just,
'Dust!'
He seemed perturbed. Something was on his mind. He could not talk. He could not
say one word excepting
Just
'Dust!'
We fear that the interview was a bit of a frost. We wanted to ask him all sort of
things about markets, and the letting of the Town Hall, and jay-walking
regulations; but all he would answer was just
'DUST!!!'
And when outside into the street we went
We knew just
What he meant.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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