Monday, July 02, 2007

 
Moolah

We had an investment house here
named for a one possessing

a splotched and pocketed face with
a nose you could stuff with silver

dollars. So? Not Rotogravure material,
but his deep pockets attracted petite
ladies who slid therein down silkily.

Anyway, it closed abruptly. What happened
to the old guys who sat and watched monitors
all day long? They took away their checked

slacks with a compartment built in almost under
the chin, evidentially holding a basket
of assorted cheeses.

Ripped down squat Mussolini modern,
and a twisted erector set showed me
it wasn’t total crap. But,

I struck out again! Thus
never saw the rumored massive screw.

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