Interlude: Poem

You can't touch me, bastard corporations of America

You can't touch me with your jute ropes and tire spray;

You can't touch me with your revolving loans and gift-card displays;

Whatever golden thread that you pull from the world does not pull from me;

Because I am not you,

Because 10-year roadshow heart machine is not my path.

You can't touch me, bastard corporations of America