And in the death, as the last few corpses
lay rotting in the slimy thoroughfare,
the shutters lifted an inch in Temperance Building
high on Poacher's Hill. And red
mutant eyes gazed down on Hunger City.
No more big wheels.
Fleas the size of rats sucked
on rats the size of cats.
And ten thousand people-oids split into small tribes,
coveting the highest of the sterile sky-scrappers,
like packs of dogs assaulting the
glass fronts of Love Me Avenue.
Ripping and re-wrapping mink and
shiny silver fox, now leg warmers.
Family badge of sapphire and cracked emerald.
Any day now, the Year of the Diamond Dogs.
This ain't rock 'n' roll,
this is GENOCIDE
