Bystanders look
to the lumbering mass,
leaving long shadows
across their paths.
Marching at glacial pace
it shuffles in place,
too dense to move much.
Stained glass windows
at the ground floor
obscure a well-appointed lobby,
unoccupied.
The designers weren’t that clever,
everyone knows all the decisions
are made in the basement,
where there’s insulation.
Everything outside the tower
is a blind-spot to the operators
while they pull the levers
and argue amongst themselves.
The decaying superstructure,
rarely course-corrects –
it’s well-suited to clashing
with other titans of its kind,
and much better at picking on others
smaller than it’s size,
and little else.
An illusion of imposing strength,
a well-placed stone
is all it would take to
topple the colossus.
We already live in the ruins,
might as well act like it.
The File Pile 