In this market, it is impossible to know
how long we will remain naked.
We lie on our backs, try to ignore,
for a moment, the cameras watching.
A visionary tells us to better wear
his handpicked masquerades.
When we do, the perspiration comes like a river.
Wave after filthy wave breaks
against our bodies as we try to get our fingernails
above the parts of us we no longer want
to disown. Yes, yes – we’ve learnt to say it
until our fingers fly to our mouths from
whatever it was we were clutching
and everything ends. With a sigh.