Resist the coercions of a deprived time,
Though ours may be as regimented as the prison floor’s
In despite living in open air,
And the nation is like the yard.
Where it was its imposition on the factory floor;
Where the tool as now has been employed for dominating efficiency
In producing surplus; let its excess rather be
A gift between you and me,
Fuck the watch.
Will it make it to its destination with a busted bladder?
Will the Freedom stamp scratch off
Like a repressive scab,
Or convenience store addiction
With no time to pull over,
For use of a useless app to pay off a perennial debt?
Has the future been speculated into eternity? Or,
Do our abstractions break down at the event horizon
Of this state, as being as useless to us
As an island of swirling plastic crap in the ocean,
Every monument our billionaire tycoons have ever “given.”
Take a gift that lasts in its resistance to becoming an object.
Keep the change.