on a recent passage to india
to exploit the country's cheap labour and natural resources
our team of colonialists flagged down a rickshaw
so we could scoff at the villagers from a higher ground
we savoured their quaint, peasanty lifestyle
by tossing out coins
to see who would desperately scramble over
and collect them from the filthy, cobbled streets
we guffawed heartily as we curled our moustaches and adjusted our top hats
and focused our sight-seeing opera glasses inlayed with gold and mother of pearl
so we could get a better view of the village we soon would ravage of its character
we then demanded the barefooted child pedal faster
even though we were in no particular hurry
inspired by the ride
and hallucinations from the antimalarial drugs
and crazed fever dreams from the foodborne illness we obtained the night before
and raw, unyielding hubris
we decided to design our own deluxe child-powered carriage
with some very special touches
including a hypnotic red spiral tucked within the front wheel
to mystify anyone who dares to stare into its whirling, twirling hub
and handlebar streamers
to lash anyone foolish enough - beggars especially - to get too close to our utopian chariot
$2200
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