Mr. Wall Street,
Yes, YOU

Take off your polished handmade Italian shoes
Yes, take them off, right here in the street
Peel off those long thin black dress socks
Feel the pavement under your
Smooth, clean white feet

Leave your former shoes to
Cry for their former owner
Some panhandler will grab them

Walk into the cheap barber shop
And tell the barber to shave your head
That full head of thick corporate hair
Falling to the floor in a pile of silver silk
As the barber hides his laughter

Now walk barefoot and bald
in your $3000 pinstriped business suit
and your silk tie and cufflinks and starched white shirt
and cashmere overcoat

Walk barefoot though the financial district
Everyone will stare
Your colleagues and friends and competitors will laugh
As dust collects on your smooth, supple clean white soles

Destroy your privilege
Cut ties
Burn your bridges
But first cross over to the other side
Become an outsider

Barefoot bald and humiliated

You can start again