The graph is depressed,

its lines dragging down

into the gutter.

Do you hear Wall Street shiver,

Main Street shutter?

 

I feed the red line from my hands.

An IV from me to a neighbor

when I buy a frivolity and they ring me up.

It is not enough;

my fingers are shreds of paper.

Our island is sinking into this sea.

Who can we grab

that we won’t drown

 

alone?

 

Pulling on a gold that won’t come.

 

I have a card.

You have a card.

Our leader has a card.

We have no eyes.

Hear the world run.

 

 

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