Money and Sex
It’s your turn to bring in the dollars,
your turn to bring in the bread.
I refrain,
my back’s nearly broke;
besides, there’s been enough such carrying
in memory’s cup to overflow the brim.
So, think of my pockets as stitched
and me, former king of the cash machine,
out of town.
Last week it was your turn
to take out the smoke;
now it’s my turn to bury the dollars
found in the yard we stumbled on
while searching back then
for arable land to plow – we did.
Now it’s this week again
and your turn to carry the cash,
my turn to blow out the smoke.
If we keep going this way,
who won’t want to know us,
get close to us – marry us.