The Polite Fraud Poem by Zachary Pangburn

Alone it stood, there in the night,
against the hazy fog, a blur.
Standing tall, with all it’s might.

Alone I stood, unable to stir.
A blank in the night, against the fog.
Speaking haphazardly, a drunken slur.

Unwilling to notice, through all the grog,
that the man before me, a fraud.
My eyes polluted by the city’s smog.

Stand there I did, completely awed.
For the man before me wasn’t just polite,
and all I could do is cry and applaud.

It wasn’t until the next days light,
that I’d found out about his plastic plight.