“The crime is how we deliberately keep out of touch,Pretending it has nothing to do with us...How familiar the metaphors, we think, suspecting our House servants of having killed & eaten our pet cats! At the University, expatriate lecturers gesticulate,Finger the leaves of Marx to a batch of yawning students,Nervously trying to define something or other...Colonies of storks in flamboyant trees look down onThe valley dust and the last of the sweet bananas.”