Tell me, who doesn't love
to watch these mastodons
spin and swirl their cement
and stone, how their sluice slides
down the chute in slops
and plops like drop biscuit
batter so workers can
spread and rake and smooth it
so it cures like pudding
or slick ice and meanwhile
the barrel rumbles like
some antediluvian beast,
these primordial monsters
invading your yard, your
neighborhood, a sure sign
of progress, where kids
with gaped pie holes can't wait
to scratch their names and press
their hands in prelapsarian
goo?
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