From the mountaintop, / I surveyed the valleys below / and counted the towns / in that sea of trees.
“They all can be yours,” / he said with a glint in his eye, / “even that shining city / on the bright horizon.”
It was so tempting — / to suddenly be a man of the world, / wearing nice clothes / and working no more.
But I didn’t trust him, / this dude in the baggy blue suit; / or maybe it was how / he slicked back his hair.
“No, no,” I finally said, / “I’ll keep the lot I’ve been given / and do the best I can / as a simple, honest man.”