My father wants me to be a famous capitalist

A land, clean, civil
No oily, heavy tar breaths.
Thanks yous, apologies, roll from wrinkled lips
A marvel shock, a stainless culture,
Safe enough.
Memories brown and green, still fresh,
No need for resistance.


Business is not the best. 
I will send you money once I get the transfer.


New faces, marred with foreign soil,
A two by two cubicle. Peace
The moral panic of the western light.
No complaints.
Acid reflux below the ocean’s heart
And the storm, the storm waiting to wrench the earth’s belly.


You’re going to be famous, I know.