lie awake at night, imagining it? do you
revel in it? do you
touch yourself to the mere fathom
of carrying the weight oh-so well
that the top percent gaze upon you,
not in awe— never awe— but in pity,
before sending your rock tumbling down?
they climbed the same mountain as you
after all, born halfway up,
rock small enough to
hide in their bottomless pockets.
