#fuck profiteering during crises

The line.

The line is a back alley surgeon.
It says your liver, it don’t look good
and pockets aren’t full but we’re good
less a scalpel and more
at knife point robbing
like an alley crook would

The line is a magician
step up to the show
see how the collared workers know
their taxed labor goes: poof
disappears but don’t see
whose wallet it when to though

The line is a drama queen
yelling I’m quick I’m falling
please rescue me
tipping back it’s own chair
waiting for that safety net
of citizen’s green

The line is fickle
and it thinks those people
they aren’t humble enough
thinks Raytheon’s belly
it rumbles too much
hungry for missiles to tumble above

The line is watching
as a pandemic spits spreading
it does a little dance yelling
while coffers open to it
and coffins doors are closing
on poor coughing souls departing

The line isn’t an object
its made of people.
Who themselves aren’t abject
but paid hedgers profitable
banking the billions off
the backs of the raging bull

markets mean murder for some
and mansions for fewer
and they laugh from on hilltops
while we watch from the sewers
and it plays out both in motions
of the line.