Trump has recently pushed a bill to criminalize homelessness. The news reminded me of this poem I had written last year, imagining such a future.

The people sat and thought and said,
“A living wage is not a perk.”
We found that there was no reward,
so everyone despised their work.

The rulers all kicked up their feet
and paid us less for longer hours.
We barely could afford to eat,
so everyone became unhoused.

The rulers hatched a brand new plan,
since carrot-dangling had failed
’cause everyone lived off the land,
so everyone was sent to jail.

Since there was no one left to tax,
the rulers found a brand new way
to raise their earnings to the max:
make everyone into a slave.

Then some rose up with hands held high,
and all the rulers feared defeat.
But all of us were pacified
when everyone was given treats.

But some were not content with toys;
they longed to live like rulers too.
They broke us into girls and boys,
and everyone was split in two.

They broke us into race and creed,
a pecking order, turn by turn.
But when we saw our common need,
then everyone had finally learned.

And I don’t know what happens next.
I haven’t read about it yet.
We’ll understand the sacred text
when everybody’s needs are met.