Rich Men Suck
Sheep without shepherd,
Raw thread sans loom…
O, rich white man, is that how you see us?
As ants scurrying to gather your crumbs?
Does this vision strengthen your egos?
Give me your hands,
your fingertips, softer than mine –
pushing paper and counting money all day.
Opalescent nails, polished and perfect.
(I can’t afford a manicure, sorry if I offend.)
In your mind, you picture
raw, thirsting power.
A lion’s heart with the speed of an elk.
The virility of a man’s man (who doesn’t really NEED the Viagra).
But I’ve spied you in the office corridor,
side-glancing in the gilt mirror,
yearning to look like Don Draper.
Real power needn’t preen
nor reassure itself.
Real power was in the humanity you left behind
when you bought your first pair of Guccis.