Timepiece

I have a temporary home at Bulgari
on the via Condotti,
out of sight of the hoi-polloi.

I am seen only by those who matter
by appointment to those who are driven
rather than drive

who live in palazzi or behind gates.
those with their private security
who board their heirs in Switzerland

I too am blue blood; upper-class.
I even have blue blood names
Girard Perrigaux. Tour de I’lle.

Not that the likes of you
would have ever heard of me.
Maybe Rolex but not me.

No one calls me a wrist watch;
a wrist watch is a Timex or Seiko.
I am a timepiece.

A wrist watch is lower class.
Declasse. A functionary. A prol.
Worn by prols.

A wrist watch is a disposable
worn by nobodies;
I am worn by those who matter

those with power and wealth.
I am a tasteful way to impress
billionaire friends.

I will live in Mayfair, Zurich or Beverly Hills
spend Summer in Monte Carlo;
We are different Timex and me.

I will not spend my life in a drawer
when the batteries wear out.
I will be handed down to his son

not thrown out.
I am an “estate piece”;
I am treasure.

And when I am discreetly purchased
I will be delivered and billed
in the manner to which a gentleman
worthy of me is accustomed.

The rich really are different;
any wall clock can tell you the time.

I can tell everyone we meet
that we are better than you.
Because we are.

.

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