Barely Above Water
In service to the few

the sound of rain, fighting, arguing
money, always about money— you couldn’t age gracefully without it
your body was something to use, squeeze, manipulate
so was your mind, your eyes, your ears — you had only so many years
clock in, clock out, dodging complaints, actioning sales, funneling profits to the top — above your head, above your rank and station, divvied out in Heaven’s corporate headquarters, among angels in suits, while you did god’s dirty work punching numbers in hell
despite what they say, little has changed since the Middle Ages — top two percent trickle down little indulgences to the teeming hordes
Amazon’s worker ants celebrate Black Friday on picket lines, apparently feeling slightly stiffed by their $15 an hour minimum wage for packaging and shipping the world’s goods in a militant and timely manner while a breezy Bezos rakes in all of the credit, smiling in front of the cameras outside of his private jet, self-proclaimed genius, Capitalism’s darling
we love the winners, the gamers, the bosses, captains of industry, while we blame the losers, telling them to work harder
the rain kept falling, the fighting, the arguing
money, that inevitable topic — leading catalyst for marital breakdown
divorce, disease, death
money — you couldn’t age gracefully without it.

© Carlo Zeno 2023
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