Minstrel In The Gallery

The minstrel in the gallery looked down upon the

Smiling faces.

Old mens cackle.

Salaried and collar-scrubbing

Still rubbing on the parts they never mention.

He pacified the nappy-suffering infant-bleating

Overfed and undertakers

.

And women-haters.

Then he called the band down to the stage and he

Looked at all the friends hed made.

The minstrel in the gallery looked down on the

Rabbit-run.

And threw away his looking-glass -saw his face in

Everyone.