Bourgeois

You, with aphoristic charm, you dance without a care and sip absinthe into the sleepless dawn, all smiles and laughter within your elite and esoteric gaggle of bright-eyed friends. You, in your stupor, your haze of self absorption and carefree bon-vivant, you cannot bear to acknowledge footman or maid, their lives running parallel to yours, their captured faces reflected sullen in the polished silver trays; each truffle they carry thereupon would deliver them and those they love from a blighted existence drenched in servitude. Dance on you, who will always be oblivious in your ease and merriment, of the pain and the hunger trembling on the rim of your cornucopia.