A (HENRY’S) MARKETPLACE
IN CHULA VISTA CALIFORNIA


To David Arias


What thoughts I have
Of your stores tonight
Ron Cohn
For I walked under your surveillance cameras
Self-conscious of the ingredients of
A Whole Foods meal
With Wild Oats
For dessert

In my working class distress
I see dreams on the windows
Of your refrigerators
Where you do not
Become richer
With the blood
Of third—world laborers

I saw you Ron Cohn!
Prosperous, lonely & fat
Spying on your customers
Conniving ways
To get more of their money

Avarice breeds danger
Therefore the police
The firefighters
The paramedics
The soldiers
The doctors
And the nurses
Walk very carefully
On your floors

Greed invites death
And the
Dance instructors
The husbands
And the wives
The handicap
The young & the old
The rich & the not so rich
All those beautiful
And innocent children
That have fallen victims
Of your insatiable
Quest for profits
Walk inside your walls
Under your roof
Next to your expired products
Trying not to get hit
By a store cart
Or slip on the
Imagery of health

Blood continues
To drip out
From the packages
Of dead meat
Staining your refrigerated shelves

The smell of decay
Continues to emanate
From the “fresh wild catch”
That is for sale
Inside your new case

Where are we going to go Ron
When the doors of your stores close?
I remember the poor baker
Repeating your words:
“Nothing last forever”
Every day has
A 9th hour

Mexico 2007