It is too narrow, the deck of the world,
to gather us all.
Some will have to stay at the dock,
their bindles shouldered
their garments hastily packed
and just enough to cover their nudity.
They will remain empty-handed,
with a lump in their throat –
always and in everything last
even when they are the first to arrive.
Тhey will be yet again brushed aside, 

hither and thither,
as if mere dregs swung away
by the great broom of the system

to make way
for the ones entitled to board.

And there she is, the ship sets sail:
rowdy passengers
screaming children
rattling plates
freshly brewed coffee
and a bottle of champagne here and there
tossed in rage into the ocean.

Left ashore
the unworthy wonder still –

should they wave their goodbyes
or just curse in humiliation?