Some day soon
Wall Street giants
will walk on their hands
never sit or sleep.
They will eat
with their feet
as nostrils drip
and neckties droop.
With toilets extinct
they will launch
missiles that blot out
the sun and moon
while in the dark
the constant dinosaur
of greed will roam
the avenue and eat
the little people
one chomp at a time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem