Suited up
He holds one hand in the other
Standing in attention
Instructions memorized
Professional attire
Surveying, judging
Who is for real
And who isn’t
Who has the money to enter
And who doesn’t
Cover charge, he says crisply
Six thousand.
He mocks those who exhibit outrage
And welcomes those who reach their wallets
Behind the grubby streets and the dirty walls
The shiny board rests
‘Rooftop Restaurant and Bar’
He looks up in pride
Thrilled to witness the party
Gleaming shoes and red lipsticks
Luxury bags and fitted clothes
Expensive cigarettes in the pocket
The moneybags behind the imported liquor
He smiles, warm and courteous
As the music blared
And the glasses clinked
As notes were counted
And cheers heard
So he looked onward with pride
Noticing an aberration
Something that didn’t quite fit
Gangly boys, with teeth so yellow
And faces so dirty
With feet so strong
That they never felt the midnight chill
Needed no fur or leather to keep warm
Just a patch of blanket
To hide their syringe
And the unkempt bellies
And oh the dirty hair
Which turned light brown
Similar to the people who could enter
And he looked at those two again
In annoyance
Shooing them away
As they poked those who went inside
Asking for money
Nothing less than ten
Mocking them if not obliged
And he shooed them away
Once more
Cursing under his breath
About irritants
And rodents
And pests
And filth
And spoiling the landscape
And troubling the good folk
With their poverty
And their degradation
And so
We say
Happy New Year.
Picture source: GB Times