Insomnia Poem #23
by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue



What you notice in old movies
is that on a voyage,
cigarettes, telegrams,
champagne glasses, darling,
even dead bodies
are tossed overboard
as if the Atlantic
were nothing but a very huge,
very wet trash bag.

And that while our heroes are indeed
filthy rich, they are never ever snobs.
For they call the ever-friendly
and servile help by their first names,
even inquire of their children.

But do you ever notice the help
never calls them by their first names
because they know who butters their bread
and are never fooled
even for a moment,
even on some backlot,
even on celluloid?

For the simple reason,
that when you're the help
you can never afford
to be fooled by appearances.





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