I Must Be Wealthy

I must be wealthy because I own so much steel and oil.

The most richest people in the history of history got rich from oil and steel. So it must be that if I have more oil and more steel than everyone else, then I am wealthier.

I love my steel and my oil. I love them so much that I take them everywhere I go. I have four and a half tons of steel and a whole barrel of oil. I have devised ways to carry them around because they are my wealth and I will not let them go.

I take my steel and my oil to work. Mornings, I drink coffee, I steam in a shower, I press hot steel against my wrinkle free shirts, I tie a tie, lace two shoes, gather up my wealth, and take it down the road. I have a carrier for my steel and oil. I got a flatbed from tall trees and some leftover logs help roll the flatbed down the road. Atop the flatbed I keep my four and a half tons of steel and my barrel of oil.

The steel is my monolith. It is a shining slab. The sun glows on the sides of my steel and when it catches my eye, I smile. I smile at my steel because it is my steel. It is my wealth. It is my expression of my rights and my dreams.

My oil is in a steel barrel. I don't know how the barrel got here, but when it came I brushed off some sand and tried to read the scribbling painted on its side. Were those letters? Were those words?

Never mind: it's time to start the flatbed rolling. I have three sturdy logs. Two stay under the flatbed holding it steady. I put the third a bit in front of the flatbed. Look at that steel, shining. I push from the back and it rolls. When the log in the back slips free from the weight of the steel, I pull the sled to a stop.

Then it starts over. There are still two logs under the flatbed, now a third in back. Out to the front goes the free log. Man, look at that steel shine. What the hell is that on the oil barrel anyway.

On the road, there are lots of people with flatbeds and logs and steel and barrels. I have the most steel. This is because I am the wealthiest. Some of them only have a ton. Some of them carry around plastic and fiberglass because they can't afford steel like I can. Some of them have batteries and just a few gallons of oil.

My flatbed, full of its gleaming steel and oil, can crush them. I am safer than they are. I am safer because of my wealth. I love my steel. I love my oil.

Sometimes I wish there weren't so many people on the road so that I could relax more and enjoy my wealth. They're all nosing around this way and that with their fiberglass and batteries. Don't they realize that I pay for the roads? It is my wealth that made these roads. I deserve to have a whole stretch of road for my steel and my oil and I want everyone to see me pushing my steel and my oil all around. They must be jealous, how it sparkles in their eyes. Sometimes I see them squint and look away and I smile. Maybe someday they'll get this much steel too.

I must be wealthy. Look at how they look at me.

© 2004 Sorrell
August