Oh, but today is Saturday, and I
was thinking that we were on Sunday's field.
Rushing out now would only clarify
the doom that waits for me upon my shield.
I'll sip my coffee, slowly, now that a cup
costs me ten dollars. Damn this guise of taxes!
I've bought a front-row seat: Police take up
their notepads where King John's thugs took up axes,
and never have to bang upon your door.
Debt for me, duty from each autocrat,
and lotteries and liquor for the poor.
Shitty world. What a pity that
a little paper sheet, so crisp and curt,
can carry in its printing so much dirt.