Tooling down University Boulevard
The late afternoon sun in the trees
Gray man is satisfied
His hedge fund is overflowing
(But, oh the sting of the lash
the pain ripping across his eyes)
He enters the Parkade

Gray man adjusts his tie
Entering the glass monument
He rises to the high place
He is offered the world, the fullness thereof
And is nearly dashed to pieces
Saved by a giant crane, then
Lowered to his late model upscale sedan

Gray man returns to his cave
He watches the images of drinks
And necessary medications
Flash on the gray walls
Argues with his mate about her
Tile inlay classes
Until only hissing silence surrounds

He dreams of the glass temples
And the super gray priests
Walking among the numbers

Far away in the mountains
The night horses run towards dawn
The dark spider weaves below
And all is still.