We washed windscreens
till the police chased us away:
dust under the wheels of the corporation:
no new day.

I couldn’t remember
who made me
or what for,
but I saw the deeds,
profit and progress,
an altar worth the blood.

They washed windows
till I chased them away.
How can I hold back
the tides of chaos?

Come to my altar.
Pay me the interest,
dust under the wheels