Good morrow, Iris
To the Market of Man went I today but long there did not tarry;
All long-standing hatreds had spoilt on the shelves
Harsh words didn’t look very fresh
And rude gestures they simply no longer carry;
Nor any matter prejudicial to religion, creed, color, gender, caste or race
Whatever; nor jealousy, rage or any other deadly sin was left
And although as yet nothing had taken its place
The stall of the Liar looked decrepit and daft.
Then, rather than starve, someone irrepressibly laughed.
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