On a dust-
caked sidewalk across
the street
from a brave kinetic
hive of construction, I pause
to watch
the secret
saffron-
haired foreman—plunked
down and clutching
his own dare-
devilishly
yellow
Tonka truck,
with which he endeavors
to govern
by example,
masterfully affecting
with each
tacit demonstration,
positively massive
amounts
of sheer dumb
change
upon the landscape.
In my imagination, I briefly
become free
to simulate
halting this tutor
to ask a few questions—
but realistically,
I'm in such an awful
big hurry
to carry-
out a
prior commitment—
walking
and shouldering this
seething and senile
envy back
home,
where it
feels
the most
comfortable.
