Poem: Suppositions

If my father were around to see

what has happened to my dog and me,

he would smile, I reckon.

That important types do beckon

is a sign, you see, of achievement.

And conveniently they pay the rent.

If youngsters were inclined to glower

at old thieves presently in power,

we’d suffer less corruption.

Commerce could continue without interruption

and the ivory tower of privilege

wouldn’t cut like scalpel’s edge.

If I had been a better friend

our story wouldn’t have to end.

The missteps and blithe disregard

for feelings put off their guard

would only bend, not break.

And I’d commit one less mistake.