Once you get on that train and unfurl
your technodrome of business
they’ll know that you’re serious
and not to fuck with you.

And what if they do?

Then they’ll see the truth
in the face of your majesty
wilt beyond the reflection
of a dimly lit interior.

Making assertions about space;
they say, “There isn’t enough.”
But, if they really believed in sharing
they wouldn’t be here in the first place.

Exhausted, they resign.

In the monitors’ glow, it all gets pinned to numbers;
while the reservoirs continue to lose capacity
to the sediment building against the dams.

A ruffling of possessions: The lapping of water against a shore ::
Their respiration: The breeze providing momentum

With the sun rising, the lights balance.
You ask yourself the same thing every time you see the city,
“Is this the best we can do?”