Zug Island and Zug Island Revisited

Zug Island

Take me there, please, where men cough and wheeze,
Where emissions and smoke swirl and dance on a breeze,
Where girders and stacks and pipes are the trees;
An oasis of these is Zug Island.

Spellbound, I gaze ‘cross the strait where I stand,
To a factory island — no beaches, no sand;
Instead a fine film of rust soot coats the land.
Life would be grand on Zug Island.

The warm orange glow of a flame paints the sky,
Cargo ships laden with steel pass me by,
A blast furnace calls; I can hear its faint cry.
My fantasies lie on Zug Island.

Gas, stench, and steam are its gifts to the air.
The River Rouge issues a toxic flow there.
As to the land; there's still some to spare.
Everything's fair on Zug Island.



Zug Island Revisited

No beauty I see in these nightmarish scenes,
Of smoke-blackened buildings and monstrous machines;
Hills of scrap metal, and rusty ravines.
No ends, only means on Zug Island.

I now shed a tear when I think of the cost;
The resources, trees, and land we exhaust,
The water and air, polluted and lost.
What bridge have we crossed to Zug Island?