We Have it the Hardest

We have it the hardest they say
Sleeves with neckties and briefcases and coats on
Standing on their stock stilts, pointing and saying
‘You’ll have it the hardest!’ through their mobile phones
You’ll see
Through paper cut eyes
And smell through paper dust lungs
You’ll feel
The twelve degrees Celsius monsoon wind
The winking satellites above ninety degrees
Reflecting a blanket of silver sawdust
You’ll be
The half-massed sailing seaboat
Across the salty avenue
Of downtown Wallstreet.


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