Palo Alto - Noaa Rienecker

Something about it is too clean,

  Polo tops -

Too bored and used to comfort,

  Tennis shorts -
  Sweater tied by the arms
  Round the neck
  Like a dorky cape -

Something about it feels like cultural disneyland,
like everything, no matter how real it looks,
will thunk hollow if you rap it with your knuckles,

  Bald men with bluetooth earpieces gesturing emphatically -

Some kind of prejudice in me makes itself known,

  One-piece silk jumpsuits worth my paycheck and a half -
  twenty-five dollar entrees and
  endless useless priceless boutiques -

So I’m relieved to see tattoos and
a beer belly and sweat stains
on a greying laborer in the alcove with a jackhammer,
my team,
my Us,
fuck Them,

these people, this place,
epicenter of the real New World Order,
of the monopoly on information,
of academia and affluence,

This place is so clean
It stinks.