i watch them, father and son
sailing on a boat, selling shells and
pearls upon a sea of green salty
surface
i stand upon planks of wood of
that resort where the rich are taking
their time weaving words to depict
what power they have what emptiness
is there
the boy holds the paddle as the
father tempts me with the shell and
the pearl
someone muttered from behind me
those are fakes which i have equated too
with the way how we see their poverty
and chances for prosperity
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