In a prosperous moment
between us
I slip a twenty into
your pocket

I feign ignorance
as to its origin
when I am asked
from where it came

and really I don’t know
It comes from a mint
It comes from my pocket
It comes from a complex

and is supported by one as well
I don’t know if it has value
It did this morning when I picked it
off the counter where it appeared

but now who knows
what vagaries of population
and control have a hand in it
and how soon it will disappear

how soon will it be replaced
or will its value vanish
until it becomes a bit of lining
stuffing in a loose threaded pocket

The money rolls in and also out
There is never enough to be selected
for meaning and God-hood and in the taverns of hell it will mean nothing

Less than nothing in fact
I slip it into your pocket
Cackling a bit in awareness
that in the long run we will die and

it will mean nothing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

onward,
T