The cost of living tends to rise.
The Feds keep interest low.
How the middle class survives
I’d really like to know.
The banks ask for a handout
and pay me but a whit.
They take my dough
and don’t you know
they make a mint from it.
So Feds don’t raise my tax
you made my cash erode.
What’s left of my greenbacks
was flushed down the commode.
For more poetry by James E. Cox
visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com.
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