The Poor’s Prerogative


They had the luxury of time,
and stomachs rumbled in happy anticipation.
Dishes overflowed with creamy sauces,
smothering soft vegetables.
A turkey,
roasted with exotic spices and juicy root vegetables,
was carved
with glistening silverware.
Rosy cheeks chattered appreciation,
bubbling over the clinks of forks.
And sometimes,
A symphony of hearty laughs from heavy bellies
filled the toasty room.

But when one of them looked out at me
staring through the window,
it was I who felt hot inside,
and so I lowered my head
and walked away,
to shoulder the cold
of the icy street.

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