DUN & BRADSTREET
You know everything, now – every measure
of my consumption, recorded and sorted, up for sale.
Nothing private left to mull alone – no dreams
without an extra cast of marksmen – potshots
from the gray periphery of open space, a shrinking
gauntlet near the finish line, and the safety
of dark death, my last hope for privacy.
Is this how you drive the cattle crazy, into
a feeding frenzy craving more before the knife?
These new cowboys, loud young bucks
ready to make their mark and wave the flag
for barbed wire, railroads and prosperity.