You know her by
the plastic bag she clutches
bulging with stiff bottle necks —
Michigan, you know, the only state
with 10 cent return, imagine the clink,
dimes cavorting in your pocket,
how 'bout a fabulous
post modern plastic-wrapped meal —
hamburger and coke,
dripping with Foucault, seasoned
with the salt of Marx's sweat.
5 dollars per hour and you've fattened up
some big cheese.

she is picking up, where others
left off — you know the students
in their faux-grunge shine give her
in wide berth, and for good reason,
no telling what she will emit
to threaten their world, newly ordered
by Schumpeter, Smith, ah, the wealth
of nations, what trickles down
but desire, hot and mean — buy, buy, buy —
get your life at the mall reeking of formaldahyde
soak your body like a de-furred, dissection bunny,
remember the bootstraps — this is the beauty
of capitalism — forget the graying teeth, nest
of hair, mumbled words we don't
try to understand
permanently rounded
shoulders.

She eyes a roadside trash can,
only this time, peering over the side
is not enough, she climbs all the way in,
knee deep no doubt, for the clearest view
in all the world.