Less is more, they often say.
Then why should margins work this way?
For photos grow from side to side,
To make this webpage extra wide.

The edges once were neatly tight,
As pictures held but narrow sight,
But now our minds are running wild,
And senses roused are always riled.

The content once was naught but food,
But topics soon became more crude.
So bankers, Belgians, Olympians too,
Have carried out their vicious coup.

Alas, the times are changing now,
But do not fret: we still know how
To take the trivial, make it stick,
And make you miss the subtle trick.

Food is timeless, as we all know,
For when it leaves, we, too, will go.
It is our lifeline, spice, and soul,
And now — and ever — makes us whole.

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the stock exchange that day.
A fear and dread and panic which was barely held at bay
had settled down upon the minds of traders one and all
as would an an airline passenger sensing the final fall.

The sub-prime mess and credit crunch made buzzwords of the year
and left the city wondering if none were left to steer
this plane from its collision course and economic doom–
thankless responsibility banks wished not to assume.

For Smith declared self-interest, three centuries ago,
would drive efficiencies of scale and all markets would grow.
But Nash exposed a caveat when life mimics a game–
the optimal for self and group are not one and the same.

Still banks too slow to change their ways remained stubborn at heart.
From methods which had made them rich they wished not to depart.
They took Smith’s words at face value ignoring Nash’s heed,
and stabbed each other in the back, control they could not cede.

In time the crisis worsened and they bled each other dry.
Fell first the haughty Bear, sending economies awry.
The Fed and US Treasury saw stress shocks if it sank,
and gave the common tax-payer the burden of the bank.

But new disaster brewed from whence it started at the first
The GSEs of Mae and Mac had all fearing the worst
Again the servants Hank and Ben stepped in to quell the storm–
decisions left all wondering if such was the new norm.

Now heads of banks throughout the land gathered before the dawn,
as Lehman leaned upon the block, its lines of credit drawn.
And Hank and Ben praised mice and men attempting to instill
a sureness in a market now broken by their own will.

Discussions raged throughout the day till wee hours of night
while Dick Fuld crossed his fingers hoping Lehman dodged the plight
of Bear and Fannie, Freddie too, their chairmans in a fit,
when Hank gave them large parachutes but no office to sit.

And so all discourse halted on a bright September morn.
The sun shined down upon the kings — a new age had been born.
With bliss woke people young and old, of this there is no doubt,
but there is no joy on Wall Street–mighty Lehman has struck out.

Had we but salt enough, and lime,
This coyness, sandwich, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To eat, and pass the feeding day;
Thou on my shiny, porcelain plate
Shouldst heaven find. I, in a state
Of hunger would complain. I’d eat
You ten years ere Baker Steve.
But you must not, please, refuse,
For breaded or grilled I cannot choose.
My vegetable toppings should grow
To adorn thy bun, enhance thy glow.
A hundred years should go to praise
Thy gloppy layer of mayonnaise.
Two hundred to adore thy breast,
Its tender poultry still the best.
An age at least to every grain
Of pepper in thy breaded mane.
For, sandwich, you deserve this state,
Nor would I eat at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
The manager’s voice: “Get out of here!”
But yonder before all us lie
Desserts of vast eternity.
Thy taste shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy golden arches, shall sound
My loving ode; then rats will try
That long preserv’d divinity,
And thy pristine state will turn to dust,
And into dirt, my hunger, lust.
The trash can’s not a pallid place,
But none I think do there embrace.

Therefore, now, while thou hast taste,
While breading and mayo sit ere a paste,
While thy bun hath yet to hear the tale
Of aging and becoming stale,
Now let us dine here while we may;
For so my love becomes my prey,
And now I will at once devour
Thy essence and thy nurturing power.
Let us roll thy yellow wrapper, and all
My napkins, up into one ball;
And tear our hunger with rough strife
Through the fast food part of life.
Thus, though we cannot make thy bun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.