We still pretend

we have it well arranged
with parliaments, judges and
a constitution of our ideals
but the farmers have stayed

and we are their servants
who grow capital, harvest
and squeeze it to many zeros
in the backyard of the slaughter

We want full barns
for the winter, but we have to
pay dearly for it to the farmers
who write the plans

with rings of self-confidence
on their clean hands
in the high state-rooms
of the front building on the avenue