Written to commemorate Morningside Books in New York City, where I gave a reading just before it closed in June 2009.
ODE ON THE DEATH OF A BOOKSTORE
By George Scialabba
When stocks fall and portfolios wane,
'Tis culture that first feels the pain.
No landlord, whether small or great,
Will bear declining real estate.
Bookstores, newspapers, magazines,
Publishers--all quit the scene.
It's only right that we should scatter--
It's not as though we really matter.
Hedge funds, banks, insurance giants:
These are our government's main clients.
Aircraft, bases, CIA:
We must go and these must stay.
No complaining, no begrudging;
It's not for rabble to be judging.
Accept that we're too small to bail.
Accept that they're too big to fail.
More precious than this room of books
The bonuses of well-heeled crooks.
More vital than our culture's riches
The net worth of those sons of bitches.
It's necessary, though it's sad.
If you don't understand, too bad.
Wall Street and K-Street must abide;
Meanwhile, farewell to Morningside!
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