Poem needs an update, any ideas?

The Broker

He walks chest out, slicing through humanity

like a ship through fog.

"Power walker" some say. He ignores them

or just doesn't hear, too busy working the market like a

Tom Smothers yo-yo.

Miles above him

computer terminal blue becomes copy paper white

transforming rapidly to US.Mint green, black.

Rain, wind-whipped, falls harder than the Nekai Average.

Stung by icy pellets, he clutches his umbrella

A sword.

He does not turtle into his overcoat;

will not rub his tender cheek,

refuses to acknowledge any power

greater than his.