While we’re dealing with piles of snow
Complaining about how it just won’t go,
You sit there with sandals on your feet
Begging for change on the side of the road.
And while we battle the cold and the sleet,
Freezing off our baby toes,
You beat the heat
Barbequing scraps of meat
In a cardboard house.
“Poor me!” We cry
Towards the sky
As fluffy stuff flies by
Not thinking of you,
Who can’t choose
Between red or blue shoes,
And can’t get in to see an MD
For an useless knee
Infected with gangrene.
Because brushing off our cars is so hard.
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