THE CORRIDORS

The streets are dark

the sun blotted by man

and his creations

his inventions

and discoveries.

The sea is invisible

and weather irrelevant

down below

here

amongst the proles.

But high, high above

we mere mortals

rest the men who made us

the species we serve

the special people.

They master us from their heights

watching nature

and we

lowly surface dwellers

scurry at their whims.

Someday

I shall not look up so wistfully.

Someday

I shall climb to their plateau.

Someday

I shall laugh at nature

and my fellow proles

and be something greater

more godly

something closer to the skies.

Someday

I shall walk down

their corridors of air conditioning

but for now

beneath them

I still choke on their exhaust.

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