Dust is the bond between social classes,
The elegant moneyed and the masses.
It collects on everyone’s things indoors,
The priceless armoires of Louis Quatorze,
Or the simple goods of the bourgeoisie,
It piles up even at Sotheby’s.
Dust motes surely beget with lust,
And make sure everything’s covered with dust.
The difference is that Louis Quatorze
Had dusters in all of his corridors,
While our more modest, but dusty shelves,
Are dusted less often and by ourselves.