THE EQUALISING SLEEP

A packing case is all this man
requires besides the bridge's span
to stop the rain and a beer can
to wet his tongue.
A London wind will be his fan
and keep him young.
If healthy outdoor living might
abridge his frail life span, that's quite
acceptable and basically right.
He'll leave a gap
and fellow indigents will fight
for his deathtrap.

And here - oh, well-deserving rich! -
a man's asleep with his oiled witch
linked arm in arm without a stitch
in torrid heat.
Their curtains and their drapes are kitsch,
their flounces neat.
When they play footsie they're aware
their broker will take care
of them, nor will they have to share
their easy wealth,
nor will they publicly forswear
their private health.

This living sleep is never just.
Yet poor and rich eventually must
attain the sleep of earthly dust;
in such repose
there'll be an end to pain and lust:
wrongs decompose.