Hsien Min Toh
It's like that night when Butterbean said they
Could not let us bring wine in corkage free
Any more. I understood; they had to stay
Afloat, we had a frail economy.
Yes, times are bad, I hear it said each day;
The paint rolls off the tongue so easily.
In times like these, we all have lips of clay.
We almost make the cold excuse with glee.
When you called up and finally could say,
I had to go, relief washed over me.
At last, I could look forward to the gray
With sorrow but without anxiety.
I felt as though a wind had made my way
Straight, fed me manna, parted the Red Sea.