What Can't Be Seen Can Be Imagined

The other side
is where the golden people reside.

After rising and bathing
and pampering their perfect bodies
we believe their day begins with caviar and champagne.

The only thing they have to complain
about is if they catch sight of us,
for we can’t be a pleasant picture
standing by the fence in our rags
with their sun glinting on the lenses
of the one pair of binoculars we share.

All we seek is a close-up peek of them
to brighten our day, our week, our year.

Plus we’d like to know if it’s true
that they really do
have a climate that’s not like ours;
theirs, we’re sure,
maintains a constantly pleasant temperature,
enabling them to walk around half-dressed
or even naked if they choose to -
they’ve got it, they flaunt it?

We’re stuck here, of course,
where the sun don’t shine.
And that fence is higher 
than you might imagine.

And electrified.

Some have tried
to scale it
and reach the Promised Land.

They died.