Subsisting in the remains of
A town built by a
Company that left everyone
Stranded once the resources
Had been recklessly
Exploited, depleted.
A child and its mother
Walk past boarded-up
Windows on their way to
The hall where she,
Her family, friends, neighbors,
Will continue to fight for
This way of life.
They’ve been able
To do whatever they want,
For so long,
With no accountability,
Complete impunity,
That they bristle indignantly
When challenged in any way,
The arrogance of
Unearned authority.
It doesn’t
Have to be
Us versus them,
People have shown
Again and again
That they can
Live in harmony,
Care for one another,
Behave compassionately.
It didn’t work out,
Maybe because it
Wasn’t meant to be but,
More likely, due to
His penchant for
Trying to force
Something to happen
When it really
Should be left alone
On its own path.
When it’s one of
Their own,
They mourn gravely;
When it’s one
Of the outsiders,
They congratulate
Each other on
A job well done,
The sanctity of the
Clique intact.
When asked what kind of
World we can build
For our workers, he answers
That we have a fundamental
Choice as to whether we
View employees as expendable
Nuisances that are only worth
Abusing and excluding from
The company’s success, or
Creating a climate where those
Who toil have the opportunity
To reap the rewards of their
Labor rather than handing it
To a few at the top,
A real sharing economy.
A fancy sports car
Drives by in a cloud of noise,
Expensive beauty —
The inane things we covet
When we forget who we are.
If he can’t be happy
Then nobody else can.
They try to approach
Him but it’s no use,
He can only meet them
At a certain level,
The one his parents
Forced into him when
He had no choice.
