The Man With Two First Names

(dedicated to an unnamed hospital administrator)



plucked from the land of Ethan Frome
ruddy with the haughty
chilled air of Vermont
he emerged from the heart of the yeti

slow and simple
quick to judge
cold and rustic
sluggish to forgive

smiles full of teeth
and vacant reassurance
he built the Taj Mahal
over the dreams and sweat of dedicated souls

the sick and weary came to him
for solace and repair
a sparkling eye reduced their humanity
to gigabytes of green

his healers soon abandoned him
broken, disillusioned
spiritually crippled
by his crushing greed

the sick continued to beg
at the back door
the door now barred
against the costly tide of the uninsurable

he walks the ghostly halls of his folly
his step, a cold-hearted tattoo
his pockets full
his parachute readied

this tomb of bone
white marble
an empty monument
to his ideals