A Righteous Man
To know just when to buy, and when to sell
is how I’ve been successful—knock on wood—
but looking wealth and fortune in the eye,
without admitting God’s good work, won’t work:
I serve my God, and though I’m not a Talmid
Chacham—no scholar, as we say—I’ve seen
enough of life, and every complex scene,
to know that those He chooses to excel
must always be more generous than timid.
New York, Miami, Boca, Hollywood—
it’s all the same—I watch the folks who work
with me on charities, and that’s how I
could tell at once that we’d see eye-to-eye—
you’re just the kind of mensch that I’d foreseen!
My special Funds? They’re private, and we work
with only heavy players—a tight-knit cell
that minds its business—but my friends would
all be pleased with you, and you’d fit in amid
the group. Suppose that we arrange a mid-
range first investment that would nicely lie
within your comfort level? The Street would
hear some buzz about a new face on the scene.
There’s more we do, of course, than buy and sell—
a rabbi always has two hats—so if we work
things out, perhaps in time your charm could work
for us. And if you have misgivings, God forbid,
you’re always free to reach me on my cell.
The single most important thing that I
impress upon my clients is that I’m seen
to be a righteous man—not made of wood,
of course, but flesh and blood—who never would
betray my God, or those with whom I work.
So what you’re saying now is quite obscene!
I’ve spent my life in helping others pyramid
their earnings, and it breaks my heart that I
must sadly say there’s nothing left to sell.
Oh yes, I broke some rules so it would work—
I was the eye inside the Pyramid—
all seeing, yet unseen. Please call my cell.
—Michael Cantor, Newbury, MA
