It’s interesting to me there’s a minimum but no maximum wage. One without the other seems like pants without legs or love without someone to love. So what are the groups? People who want no minimum or maximum wage; people who want a minimum but no maximum wage; people who want a minimum and maximum wage; and people who want to eat. A minimum wage of twenty bucks an hour is roughly eight hundred a week, or forty grand a year, or 1.6 million in a life. There’s your maximum wage—1.6 million a year. If you earn in a year what I earn my entire life, you deserve the right to be happy about it in a gated community where you don’t have to be ashamed of the dance of your joy. I deserve the right to put heirloom tomatoes in the salad now and then. Such as when my kid got her cast off and her hand looked fine, like it intended to go on waving at moonlight and birds. And I never thought about it but slipped the insurance card out of my wallet and slid it over. And the car started the first time for the drive home to our little bungalow that needs a new paint job, but that’ll happen this summer, right before we go to a lake for a few days and I open a beer one night and think, I have a place in whatever this is. Then listen to the stars saying nothing in peace, though what passes for peace is a mystery to me, not unlike who’s behind the universe or why so many people in unions voted for people who wanted to kill unions, but we did and they died, unions died. Now where on earth am I supposed to send the flowers?
Through predictive analytics I understood the inevitability of the caged-up babies They keep coffins at the border for when the refugees get too far from home How many thousands of bodies can we fit in a tent or a swimming pool We can live without the unknown in front of us if we keep enough babies in cages The cardboard box sleeps one kid comfortably Two is snug efficient recommended in times of austerity Relational values change in relation to market sentiments This is the danger of having too much access to illegal bodies Let’s pretend the illegal bodies are bankers Let’s stick all the bankers in cages Let’s shove shit in their mouths Let’s pretend they are eating cryptocurrency Let’s create a crisis let’s induce inflation Let’s undervalue the cost of their bodies I dream of an economy where one arrested immigrant is replaced with one dead banker I am not responsible for my dreams rather I am responsible for what I do with my dreams When the sleep medication wears off I am alone with the machines that watch me The global economy brightens my room with the surveillance of my rotten assets