Every morning I wake up
On the wrong side
Of capitalism
A vast toad, like Larkin’s
It has embedded itself deep
In my life
So that if its slimy legs
Merely spasm
Huge fissures appear in my days
My hours
My seconds
It saturates
My cells
With its imperatives
Seeps
Its toxic juices
Deep into the wrinkles of my mind
I have studied it
For a long time now
And feel that I understand
Its dynamic
Its moods
Its changing shape
Its brutality
Its insanity
Its mendacity
Its tenacity
Its ability to cling on
Limpetlike
To all that I say
And do
I understand its internal contradictions
Its inherent instabilities
And what needs to be done
To supercede it
But still every morning
I wake up
On the wrong fucking side
Of capitalism
