SEVENTH HOOKER POEM (money I love you)

there are two parts of a man that never lie, his dick and his wallet, one limp or stiff to tell me how attractive I am and the other open or closed to show me how worthwhile he finds my company. somebody once told me that money is the opposite of love, well what a cynical take on love, that it doesn’t feed you or clothe you or give you a place to stay, just leaves you out in the cold to fend for yourself and beats you like an angry heart when you try to sneak in the back door, well here is my back door my personal take on your heart, or failing that your ass (always have a plan b handy I say, don’t waste your life doing nothing in place of what could have been if only it had been no don’t let the holes in your life grow to man-sized in the hope that someone will fill them swiss cheese is not the smell of success,) here is the way I take you in and go to work on your skin sending little beginnings through your nerves to the happy endings in your brain, kickstarting my pheromones with yours the endless feedback loop of here I am, and the final honesty your disgust at the mere thought of not paying me for access to my throbbing hearth, not giving me something anything in return for making you the most important man in the world for half an hour, money the savior that stops your (childish yes logical yes practical yes) worries about how you can ever repay me, well now you can, buy now and get a free sense of worldonasilverplatter for that specialsomeone, a cheat code to escape the eternal three, money not even a thing in itself the paper the metal discs only symbols a carefully crafted set of evidences of impossible-to-copy, here are two oxen a flat screen tv a month’s rent or simply an eloquent thank you in my hand little rectangles of translated everything little bits of forever safe, or at least as safe as can be and who can ask for more than can be, money the plan b when the plan a of mutual infatuationadmiration isn’t available, when we never seem to have extra time at the same time, when the perfect love wasn’t what we happened to stumble upon well nothing’s free if it isn’t given to us, but here’s a safety net an everpresent secure base, money the torch passed on in life’s conga line of caring stripped of the tiring algebra of gratitude, here is a rectangular promise kept the moment it’s made oh money I love you

Reklamer

One thought on “SEVENTH HOOKER POEM (money I love you)

  1. In my opinion, the other two poems are a lot better.(I’d give them an 8 or 9)
    This one seems to have been more like something just thrown together at the last minute.(I’d give it a 5 or 6)
    Maybe the Hooker poems have reached there climax….This is the 7th one.

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