The Surly “mr. B” Poem by Ray Lucero

“My oh my” this fellows so pragmatic
“One + one is two n’ two + two is three”
His responses are so cold n’ automatic
A static mind on cruise control you see

Expects a sunburn on a sunny day
Sees only foible in happiness n’ joy
Danger for a child happily at play
His surly nature does everyone annoy

Makes you wonder why he’s so sour
When hoarding money be his only joy
Holding over others his only power
Belittling a lovely wife his only toy

Time to “Pull it together” Mr. B
To make amends n’ finally atone
To face the truth n’ accountability
‘Lest you die unhappy n’ alone