how the other half lives

on

Not the other half;
the one percent?
I must be in
the other half, the top 50?
But am I in the
one percent?

I’m educated there, I live there.
On the other side.
Across the water.
By the shining domes.
Do I lie
to myself?

Is my spoon too polished;
my pillow too fluffy?
Ought I to blend into the brickwork
and allow the miracle success stories to dazzle?
I wonder how both halves live,
those in palaces, whose public presentations
disgust me, and those in tracksuits,
whose presentations I can barely see.
If they are both halves,
then where am I?

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