In memorium
By RAHN ADAMS
That ride on the golden escalator / was already at its lowest level. / It should have been shut down / once and for all, God damn it.
The golden tower never was as tall / as it was said to be. / The sales pitch was just a big lie, / selling fools timeshares on the 13th floor.
Now they want golden parachutes / to break their falls. / The rest of us are left waiting for an elevator, / or we’re forced to take the stairs.
The golden doors suddenly slide open; / we can go up or down. / Two good and pretty elevators can carry us, / but both are covered in blood.