"Wealth" by George Shelton

Massed into undergroundpublic transit, some areobsessed with wealthof corporate heads, personal detailed sex, or maybean adopted infant yet compress as needed, eyes down,quiet or breathy, to sit, stand, read, listen—jailing dissidentssome expression overheardmusical and exotic as ahorse breeder's tax worries.Undiagrammable sky rolls cloudsabove the avenue of office buildings where my preciousnessdrilled through to initial tasks, then more work and meetings all daybusy non-stop on the organizational chartyet at last on sidewalk, then going downto blend into streak of facesin the tunnel home to my orphan's dark brown eyes.