The bosses like to get high,
really high,
as high as they can
on the skyscraper their contractors are building
downtown,
and surveil their kingdom below.
…
High. And low. Puppet masters, exploiters, manipulators, purveyors of misery.
In a city, near you and me.
…
Up high the bosses are removed from the “filth” below,
the hookers, the scammers and dope dealers they control,
the scum they use as footsoldiers,
the low-lifes they’ve gotten rich off.
Up high, the bosses stay detached and clean.
They shake hands, and nod smugly.
Deal’s made.
…
The bosses go home, to their mansions,
respectable, Catholic, family men,
they kiss their wives
and each five children.
Tonight, satisfied, sweet sleep.
Deal’s made, sealed.
… And outside the wind blows,
devil’s breath whispers …
tomorrow death for all.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…