Dreaming Of Powerball

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.