Looming over subways and
cornering passersby on walkways,
these concrete and metal giants
tower the fleshlings with
Steel intentions, impenetrable to remorse.
Willis, you will always
be a Sears Memory,
a rebel by name with
walking glass, a view bravely seen by few.
Hancock, your structured
laws stand as still as a
narcoleptic corpse were signed and sealed.
People become microscopic arthropods
in the noonday sun.
Who cowers before your artificial majesty?
O’ Steel Hands, grasp firmly
until the force of life brings me
otherworldly corporate pleasures.
August 28, 2015