The Light Flickers

I enter through a doorway, beside which
Bear cubs deploy themselves in solemn rows,
Watching the comings, goings, ebbs and flows,
Catastrophes, and holidays. The pitch
Is much too high. We emulate the rich,
But we are not rich. Where the money goes
Is no one’s business, so nobody knows.
The light flickers. Who’s standing by the switch?

They say the world is rushing to its end,
But all I see is darkness. I abjure
The light, and still the future is unsure:
They’re telling me I’m going to need a friend
To carry all my money, but I spend
So little that I might as well be poor.