Pyramid Scheme

In which a little dollar bill speaks volumes...

One morning, walking to work,
September’s sky gray and heavy
as a bank vault door,  a folded
dollar bill in my hand to feed the
parking meter when the great
seal reveals itself to me:  an
illuminated capstone floats
above the pyramid where a
single eye peers out at us;
and there, in the distance,
slaves in ancient Egypt 
toil their lives away to build 
the building that's still being
built today the whole world over,
doing our level best to keep 
this pyramid scheme afloat.
As we humanoids—born, but
not alive—stroll past each
other in the scrimmage line
of apathy’s streets under other 
eyes suspended from the corners
of buildings or lampposts,
past the biggest eye of all, 
on the corner of State and 
Van Buren, glowing in Chicago’s 
downtown morning like a UFO; 
but the Cardinal has long since 
flown the coop…