Money Pit


Rocket of antebellum
Ship of tribal plenty
How come I don’t read about you in the papers?
Ancient tons of stone
The cancer bomb

You are no different from the kid during recess
Who would never climb on the monkey bars

Is it funny
That in you I find nature?
Necessarily, like
White dwarfs and apple cider,
The early cackle of iron spades

Who wouldn’t ever
think about throwing tiny stones at chipmunks and tree trunks
The kid who grew too coyly and might cheat on a test
To prevent the complete dismissal of that glib philosophizing

The dead space in Siberia
Was that a Soviet trick?
Did Einstein sell them a travel kit?
Did his gratified grin twist in a quantum fit?

You think I don’t know you at all
But I do know your nature
I know you like secrets
In my mind I am sinking
Into the pit
This is where the secrets dance
And you are a fat gatfly
Awaiting a flick

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