Cityscape # 1
Oh, what the difference betwixt he and
Why did bright providential immensities determine
That this is the way it should be?
A pay stub- a slip of paper framed on the wall -
A chance right of birth -
Yet still my brother and I travel together
Through the same fetid tunnels
Of half frozen earth.
No, I dare not let his glance cross
The threshold of mine -
I can't let him see, for see he surely would -
What manner of thoughts inwardly pine?
I don't want him to know
The pitiful bankrupt soul
That ponders "higher thoughts"
When the next meal is his only goal.