money

The soul breathes in daisies and breathes out seeds for planting.

This requires sunshine, water and a few lightning strikes every couple of years.

Money breathes in your soul and exhales lacey cigarette smoke.

This requires fluorescent lights, coffee and a few lucky numbers.



Money sucked in by his finger for fancy lunches with younger girls made her divorce him.

He is in a lounge chair at a sleezy hotel in Marina Del Rey and 10,000 dollars in debt

Rum and coke and little skirts are costly. But at least he is still smiling.



Another pair of them lost their soul somewhere back in fifth grade when no one helped him read

And no one read her diary where she confessed to a multitude of sins she had not yet committed.

They’ve been leaning on each other for morality but ended up with a joint income tax and cell phone bills in each others name.

And this one claims communication with the soul, the powers that be, finds herself in the agitated wash cycle at the laundry mat.

Her hair curling in every direction. She breathes in daisies and exhales smoke. She’s been spoiled by the ergonomic conditions

But daily reads the newspaper with throat full of suffocating screams and tears in her eyes.



In the place where there’s more graffiti than bank accounts, money is still a god. But out of reach like the Bel Air homes.

14 year old boy down the street wants to wash my car for money so he can get his game on with the girl at his school

That he only attends between suspension and visiting his mother in the hospital.

That’s why I said no to the car dealer down the street and take the bus



to work?