Luxury cars displayed, glass-encased,

a stone’s throw from where

people make their homes

under flyovers.

 

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.

 

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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.