Window

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I live on the outskirts
In the servant houses
Of the rich
With my one good suit
Gripping a Bordeaux
Gaping at the opulence
Across the window
Looking in
Like Fitzgerald
Fettered
Not having
In weakness wanting
Faking
Peering
Through windshield glass
For a prize worth taking
Breaking a barrier
Barring the wealth
Thinking of dealing
To make a living
Without stealing
Ineffectual Intellectual
With a nametag
And wet dynamite
Beneath my ribcage
A library card
And a mouth of pulled
Teeth
A crook
Me
Guilty of being
More free than free
Brave with failure
And unsatisfied
With the opulence
Across the window