tycoon typhoon

very old, found within myspace archives.

i put my ear to the dirt
and i can hear them,
or rather, feel.
it is like the shaking of thunder
the twigs are jumping
the very small rocks dancing
unaware that they are
not willing this upon themselves.
the rumbling approaches,
causing no lack of panic
among the blades of grass,
still and quiet not 30 seconds ago.
i would stand to witness this
catastrophe in motion, but
i am entranced and distracted
simply by the growing roar.
i know they are close now,
the clicking of their shoes very audible
as well as the swishing of Armani jackets
and the chatter of Rolexes
bouncing on fat wrists.
frightenned beyond any sensible action,
i decide to play dead and
hope to god i am not trampled
underneath the corporate monster.
motionless, i catch a glimpse of
pinstripes, clear amidst the dust cloud.
i can barely discern any particular sound,
but i swear there was a snort
or a growl at one point.
they rush by in the thousands now,
crushing the grass and the
previously joyous rocks and twigs,
occasionally dropping a brief case.
i hide my face and wait as
they pass, unable to look up.
and when the noise finally fades,
i can see that among several watches
and scattered pie charts lies a body.
i stand with what is probably
a blank expression, morbidly curious
and confused as well.
i know that a few small items
are always left in the wake
of the stampeding businessmen,
but now i see that they have left
behind one man in a blue suit.
its sad, really.
they dont even bury their dead.