THE LINE AT THE BANK

Awaiting the buisness of the world's lifeblood,
I stand here in this array of clothes wearing people,
All shifting, twitching, aching for that coveted top,
Like so much champagne out the neck of the bottle.
And on arrival there, a look at the comrades
Which look so envious with their mock sullen stares back.
In front of me are the legion of the seemingly ordane,
Clothes match their socks, faces match their socks.
But what lies underneath?

In front of me a man in his black camouflage,
Complete with pasty white shirt and red tie.
Father Time had begun to finish this sandwich,
Salting and peppering the somewhat shrinking hair.
His arms crossed over his chest in an attempt
To obtain an air of kingship among these lost sheep.
His black leather shoes alot like his face,
Aged and somewhat creased yet obviously
Looked after with the care of an embalmer.

Ahead of him a woman of questionable looks,
Her birthright face colored with vanity's crayon,
Hair neatly combed aside like curtains to show
The world inside this vacant house.
The remnant ghostly furniture covered in sheets,
Attempting to avoid dust with lack of use.

A couple mingling amongst themselves before her,
The dents of marriage show in their eyes,
Hastened promises locked them in this bliss.
Their voices mere infractions on the stone dead
Joy of conversation, and yet a pack of fools
Could see them engaged in their favorite pastime,
A stalemate of worthless hours spent as swine,
Flinging the mud in which they sleep at each other.
What delicious meat they will make for some
Barely hungry advocate.

And besting them in the race to the tellers is one more,
The glasses on his irradiated face attempting to
Seem as a privelege in fashion rather than the liability they are.
His short hair emossed the contour of his hairline.
No doubt one of those elite mancers of the artificial body
Which his eyes have stared vacantly into for his best years,
A mistress who has left her touch and stole his youth.

And then I, a legionaire in this band of specimens
Stand and wait for those godly words to come:
"I can help you over here, sir."
I wonder what these successors of my soon vacancy
Think of me?