Click

Show me where  
in this world    
a billionaire  
is without the blood  
of someone on his hands  
 
Show me case history  
where there are no ghosts  
shadowing his money trail  
 
Or maybe the man  
who built the machine  
isn’t all bad  
 
Maybe he works late  
from a 58th floor  
on Wall Street  
counting the dead  
on an abacus  
 
How simple  
ancient  
innocent  
 
Maybe the sound  
of those clicking beads  
is all he needs  
to make him happy  
 
After all, he’s too far into killing  
to claim there is such a thing  
as silence  
 
There isn’t a ship in port  
or stationed train  
that can depart without blood  
thick in the brig of its joints  
 
Show me in nautical points  
or across tracks
there are no ghosts  
rising and falling  
in the foam of landscapes
 
And I'll show you  
the face of war  
 
because there are no borders  
when bloodshed  
has no boundaries  
 
My worst fear, you ask?  
Is that humanity  
the one that loves everybody  
 
will just give up  
 
click, click, click. . .