Deposits

A summer deposit:
note the track marks
on the arms of the tellers.
Hear a conch
blown in the Great Safe
where upper management dance
in a ring, naked
but for animal masks.

You were born unlucky,
a beige limousine
idles in your mind.
Of all the peasants in the world
you remember only a girl
alone on a mountain
selling wild flowers,
her black eyes, her sticky hands.