Economists appear to aspire
to something like a science
of whether, to say with authority:
cirrhosistratus leads to cumuloincubus
with a chance four out of five.
They do this to gain
status in society.
At their best economists
are dull poets.
They grope
for a chair or a doorknob
when others speak of
building a new society.
They hammer on
simple metaphors:
the price, the cost,
economic man,
markets,
an invisible hand.