The Billionaire Waits

Rhododendrites

Dump-truck barricade
and guards on the street
in bulky flak vests,
assault-rifle magazines
curved like plastic tusks.
It’s a strange scene,
both surreal and ritual.
A stink in the street,
a raw tension,
scraps of paper,
dark November heat,
the lashed ocean,
a million discontents.
Above the guards
the grooved glass totem rises
notched and edged
like a shark fin.
And at the top
the billionaire waits
to finally assume
what was always his to take.