Foot Shooters (Wolf Tickets) Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Foot shooters and crow eaters,
Exhibiting despair.
And unexpected taste...
Faced with public disgrace.
Unable to replace,
The obviousness...
Of their exposed disappointment
Have agreed to significantly,
Reduce the inflated boosting...
Of wolf tickets to sell.
Not doing well,
At the box office.
Or on crowded noonday streets.
Decreasing expectations,
To fill stadium seats.

Hope is leaving the belief,
The covering of expenses...
For such an extravagant show,
Would be as easy as teasing...
Kids with a new combat video.
That promised,
To blow away the competition.
And 'anything' they want sold.

But!
As always 'butts' do to prove,
Too many became appalled...
By threats made.
That they had better views,
From front row seats.
When visited by clowns dressed,
Making personal appearances...
At their unlisted,
Home addresses.
Offering services as chaperones
Explaining to them an event...
As if they had no minds,
Of their own.
To think of them as children.
Too ignorant to comprehend,
What's fluffed up to bluff.
Sweetened to butter the cover,
Of smothered real stuff.
Or...
The reality that meets to feed,
Grown up appetites.
Clowns dressed to impress...
Discover their routines,
Outdated.
And performed for too long,
At selected wrong addresses!