not to say it was perfect
but it was close, access
to food, left over
from private parties,
those Chapel Hill socialites
urged to deplore those who
didn't protect flowers,
so they sponsored
soirees and deep commitments
to the exotic plants,
leaving crumbs,
stale coffee and
tea leaves for vagrants
like him, seeking refuge in cold
concrete way stations, sleeping
in restrooms, and taking dainty
showers in their sinks,
as he waited to strike
again.
It makes me really mad - high society events replete with staggering amounts of food for "goofy" causes and the aftermath of food waste. And, then the homeless "feast" on what's leftover. Wouldn't it be amazing if they had such a feast and invited the homeless to eat. But, then of course the socialites wouldn't attend. Arghhh!
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
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Kathy