Like Mushrooms In The Fall Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The steel towers rise on the edge of the town,
They promise us riches, they never look down.
Like mushrooms they sprout in the heat of the day,
While policy dreamers lead us astray.

The leaders in suits make a grand, glowing plea,
To lure in the wealthy with taxes set free.
The millionaires smile as they take all the land,
With a gift from the town held firm in their hand.

But wires need power, and currents run deep,
To feed all the circuits that never will sleep.
The water lines stretch and the roads start to fray,
With millions of costs that the residents pay.

The coffers are hollow, the tax breaks are signed,
So they look to the neighbors they've left far behind.
The bills start to climb and the property rates,
To pay for the power behind the locked gates.

We pay for the progress that passes us by,
Beneath a cold glare in a digitized sky.
The pipes and the cables, the grid and the cost,
For a dream that is sold, while the citizens lost.