Car Wash Slavery by Angela E Brooks

Don’t take your car to the carwash

It’s the new slave trade

And the lads who work in the carwash

Are their master’s slaves.

They work for a pittance, if they are lucky,

Sleep like dogs in whatever space they can find

While our ignorance of the life they lead

And the life they have left behind

Makes us as bad as the masters of old

Buying men the slave traders sold.

There is nothing so bad as to wash the cars

Of the people who drive while so blind

To the sufferings around them everywhere

As far as the eye can see

We step out from our comfortable homes to drive

To the Malls, to the shopping parades

Complaining of exhaustion while sipping tea

Not knowing or caring how it was made.

While the slaves in our towns are unseen, unknown

Carrying their sorrows in silence,

Writing unsent letters home “I am fine, I’ve a job,

Soon I’ll send money home, I’m so glad

I met a man from the motor trade.”