By James Kavanaugh There are men too gentle to live among wolves Who prey upon them with IBM eyes And sell their hearts and guts for martinis at noon. There are men too gentle for a savage world Who dream instead of snow and children and Halloween And wonder if the leaves will change their color soon. There are men too gentle to live among wolves Who anoint them for burial with greedy claws And murder them for a merchant's profit and gain. There are men too gentle for a corporate world Who dream instead of candied apples and ferris wheels And pause to hear the distant whistle of a train. There are men too gentle to live among wolves Who devour them with eager appetite and search For other men to prey upon and suck their childhood dry. There are men too gentle for an accountant's world Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass And search for beauty in the mystery of the sky. There are men too gentle to live among wolves Who toss them like a lost and wounded dove. Such gentle men are lonely in a merchant's world, Unless they have a gentle one to love.
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