Overnight,
one hundred and seventeen million dollars
was stuffed into my head.
Whoever did that
rammed it in there with an Aston Martin,
left it running in my ear canal.

I walked around
for several hours before sunrise
imagining how I’d burn the place down.
I broke two cheap dishes and
kicked the furniture until I bled.

There is no room
now for thoughts about paying bills
or simple dinners, lovemaking or the way
a cat feels early in the morning.
All I’ve got left is five dollars
burning a hole in my ratty pocket
and a roaring in my head that won’t quit.