Luxury cars displayed, glass-encased,
a stone’s throw from where
people make their homes
Leafy suburbs, all high walls and gated communities,
where the fat pony’s stable
is a step up
from the best built shack.
Assuage your guilt by paying someone
to mow your lawn
or clean your house
for a cut above the minimum wage.
Turn your head away, un-see them all;
the beggar by the robot,
the thin woman with the baby on her back
picking through the trash.
Don’t look back
Don’t glance over your shoulder.
It’s all still there.
High up, in your shiny city apartment
overlooking the city-bright lights
you forget the people
shivering on the street.
South Africa is the most unequal country in the world and reading this post from Sadje last week impelled me to write this.
Note: ‘robot’ is what we call a traffic light here.