The Rich Man

Dangling. You keep me
Dangling, Between the red light
for stop and the green

for go. No amber.  
Never the gentle amber.
The maybe amber,

the amber which does
not require me to jump through
hoop after hoop, to

walk the tightrope of
approval, wired, suspended
like the rich man who

believes that one day
he might, just might squeeze himself
through the needle’s eye

while the corrosive
unchanging atmosphere of
his situation

tarnishes his life:
his neurodiversity
the unspoken key.