Flow

Only when it's liquid does it flow downhill.
Careful not to spill: capital flows through wires

To whereever the thirstiest workers are willing to work
For a drop of a dollar peso yen or shilling,

To whereever liquid is low the capital will flow.
To trickle back into its own ammo and cigarettes.

Geography stays in one place through rain and drought.
Its workers wilt weathering the thirst and pain.

When factories move away, the workers remain.
On a landscape blazed plain and stained with pollution.

They say "Buy American" and smile angrily.
But we won't buy again American for awhile.
Until there's striking from the Nile to the Ukraine,
At which point maybe Capital will smile us that old flash,
And let a few Americans walk through its turnstile,
And browse expensive shelves while mopping up the aisle at night.