Dear Sir,
I know not who you are,
or why.
But I know you took my money
with a grin.
One month's wage.
I had complained too late,
you said,
to your delayed tax letter.
My fault!
you said.
Then let it also be
my fault
when they try to gather
your remains from the gutter.
[This message has been edited by Solan (edited July 30, 2001).]
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