I had you pegged for a suicidal girl
Dancing round the fringe of the festive left
Petty as your insults were, I never guessed
How grand the theft, how wide the heft
I knew
Who paid you
I never understood who you worked for
What the curt abbreviations were short for
How the scathing critique was just a tantalizing peek
At the life that chose you
The underground will find another Manson
The poets will find another Pound
The campuses will bleed until hearts run for greed
The galleries will burn to the ground
The asbestos at the bottom of the bottle
Fills each basement and every garage
The resistance we feel is real
It's a mirage
And the man who has never known thirst
Cannot wrap his head around a mirage