I met Carl Marx in a bookstore
hanging around in the classics, waiting
some casual reader's mind to seduce
his weaver, painter, plowhorse, produce
a strange dream of worker equality
the value of labor, everyman matters,
An oxcart teeters, ideas splatter
into his subtile, beguiling reasoning
I read on, in a dream, this worker paradise
A place where each of our labors have worth
If I study and become a doctor of medicine
I am the same as the welder and the shopkeeper
I felt the burdens of the laborer upon me
I saw his vision of classlessness preside
I wanted to buy that book! but it's silly
I am a capitalist, shamelessly bourgeois..