To the Businessman

O businessman
your need
to be loved
stinks from
a mile away,

like the
underside
of underwear
worn by a
pubescent-
your greed
is stained
teeth

and matted
hair.

Your desire
to cripple
and takeover
spills across
the pavement
and leans
against
the planter
covered
with folded
arms and
hoodie.

O businessman, when will
We see you for what you are

Author: Buddhadoshā

Buddhadoshā loves you.

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