They stood apart,
the rich man
and the man who had enough,
watching the city from the space needle.
They drifted together
like transparent clouds,
until shoulder to shoulder they touched,
absent in other thoughts.
The rich man thought,
I won the city,
and the ache of power
spread through him like a disease.
The other looked into the sun
just above the planet’s edge,
and thought,
I’m one of millions,
and the ache of his singularity
spread through him like a disease.
Between them, nothing was good
and nothing was bad.
What mattered made no matter.
If they jumped from the window
they would hit the ground
at the same time.