(s)exploitation

I was hungry

..and out of nowhere came the calming smell of bread... a smell from the factory on the corner.   

As I approached 11th street an 18 wheeler.. white with balloons... primary colors... Turned in front of me north onto the road... and in my minds eye Im inside the factory.  The red white and blue.. dangling from the rafters.

the factory Supervisor... a stern conservative looking man stands on a catwalk above the workers overlooking the Sunday morning process.

He watches it all protectively like a pimp but he raises his hand and makes the sign of the cross like a priest.. and with the hum of mass production..  Loudly he speaks.  

In the name of the Father... et Fìlii, et spiritus sancti.

The workers receive the yeasted ..dough....

It is risen.  The celebrant says.

Indeed.  It is risen.  Comes the response like gears grinding in a machine.. and then the dough..  mixed... now moves onto conveyor where it's chopped.. harshly broken by blades turning like film reels.

The Supervisor raises his hands.. open at shoulder height.

Excelsis..
Deo.

and with the words.. Clasps his hands together with a clap like a thunderous nut cracker.. and then he bows his head to pray...  Robotic.. and in sync to the metal parts around him.

The dough is carried by belt through a riser.. and then baked  Golden Brown.  Tan like freshly burned skin.

Body of Christ...  The celebrant say's  

Amen..  come the workers.

And The bread is moved through a Slicer.  Slicing at 65 loaves a minute.  And then...

it is finished.

What remains are 22 slices of bread per loaf...  Fully leavened.. divided.. and sent out to the world for the highest possible profit..  

Under the flag.. the packaged bread is loaded onto the truck for distribution...

unto all of those in the world..
who have the cash.  

The truck turns on to the street in front of me so that I have to slow down... 

As I near a stop.. I can hear words coming from inside the factory..

Ite Missa est.  Go in peace.  He says... And the truck travels on northward to the highway... like an outlaw heading for deadwood.