Addis Ababa Road, by Alex Morrall
In the city of Saba there is a glut of wealth.
Everyone has more than enough.
Even the bathstokers wear gold belts.
Huge grape clusters hang down on every street
and brush the faces of the citizens.
No one has to do anything.
You can balance an empty basket on your head,
and it will fill by itself
with overripe fruit dropping into it.
Stray dogs stray in lanes
full of thrown-out scraps with barely a notice.
The lean desert wolf gets indigestion
from the rich food. Everyone is
satiated with all the extra.
There are no robbers. There is no energy
for crime, or for gratitude.
And no one wonders about the unseen world.
