Poem -

THE CURE

Sick of that upturned-always palm?
Tired of always feeling like someone who's just handed his keys over to a thief?
Well, fret no more, my friend; please, just remain perfectly calm:
For that, we now offer a soothing balm!
Derived from the strangling roots of the Aristocratica Hispidity plant,
Grown exclusively for us in the abandoned lots of America's most fertile slums,
It attacks the nerve-endings in the humanity in you and, the humanity in you, it comfortably numbs.
Used regularly, we can promise "continuous" relief from the impoverished and their constant irritation--
A product, in fact, so effective, it's the latest craze sweeping the elite of the nation!...
Supplies are limited, though--so please act now to avoid any further frustration.
Satisfaction is guaranteed, or return for full remuneration.*
*Minus, of course, any gratuity we might provide our C.E.O with as part of some "additional" compensation.
 

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