I am at a loss,
Stuck in time
Like some bug in amber,
Though I will not be preserved.
I will fall
Like the angels banished from heaven,
Into destruction.
I will not be raised up,
But turn to dust
Blown apart by the wind,
And, with a little luck,
With the help of the jet stream
Or serendipity
Or some other mechanism,
A little piece of me
Will be blown east a thousand miles
Dip down and become lodged
In some Wall Street bankers eye.
No comments:
Post a Comment