A Meditation On Davos
There’s fences to mend and
melons to rind
goldfish to tend and
geysers to time
the mood isn’t right the
phone banks been robbed
these excuses are slight,
dud grenades that I’ve lobbed
at the hardened pillboxes and
impregnable redoubts
of the canny old foxes, their
persistent bale shout outs
Herr Schwab is the worst
he won’t leave me be
pledging shoe shines and wurst,
Cross pen sets all free
for the taking mine with
no questions asked
these fellows aren’t
faking yet I take them to task
who wants to rub shoulders
with Bill, Mick and Merkel
burdened with folders it’s
just not my circle
yet the parties sound fun,
I hear the music is jumping
I could soak up the sun,
stock tips, those worth dumping
eat lots of Swiss cheese,
climb a mountain then nap some
thin air makes me wheeze but
I’d be versed on Higgs bosun.
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