THE MARKETPLACE

The people come
And search for health
Immortality shrink-wrapped
Looking for the tree of life
In the produce section
With invisible pesticides
In the meat department
They seek a sacrificial beast
So they can have a barbecue
And become beautiful
But it’s just a corpse
And they died with it
All those faces full of dread
Spending dollars
Trying not to be dead
And their money is not helping.