(The Bee has received the following poem/letter for publication.)

You’re beautiful, Connecticut, your pastures verdant green.

Your hillsides splashed with color, your shoreline so serene.

But you’re a little slip of land with a mighty appetite.

Your debt is legendary and your taxes out of sight!

I love you still, Connecticut, I’ve lived here all my days.

I think I’ve paid my dues to you. Oh, let me count the ways:

You tax my pay and property, and do it retroactively!

The food I eat, the clothes I wear, each time I drive or do my hair-

Unleaded gas, my yoga class are taxed against my will.

And yet the debt climbs higher and the coffers empty, still.

Where does it end, my wasteful friend? There’s nothing left to do

Unless you tax the air we breathe and going to the loo.

The time will come, oh dearest one, my hair will turn to gray.

I’ll count the meager pennies that I’ve tried to stash away.

I have a fear it will be clear I can’t afford to stay

And do my part (it breaks my heart!) to fund your spendthrift ways.

I’ll bid you then adieu, to my Connecticut, goodbye!

I’ll move up to New Hampshire, to live [tax] free or die!

(Note: The Tax Foundation has again confirmed that Connecticut remains the state with the highest taxes in the nation for 2014. Connecticut residents must work from January 1 until May 9 to satisfy their federal and state tax obligation, longer than any other state! )

Rosanna Rogers

22 Clapboard Ridge Road, Sandy Hook   October 21, 2014