the travels of money

friday the thirteenth and i’m thirsty for thoughts
to quench my wandering soul.
i’m full of questions and a sudden queer feeling
in the pit where my black heart resides.
i believe, i believe; baby, i’m not going back.
this is a lot of change for one little girl with big sunglasses
and a sense that there is some higher purpose to this life.
once again, upon pealing back the layers
and spending too long on the bathroom floor with dry heaves
it shows that cigarettes and tea will just not satisfy.
cancer was so last season and this unreasonably warm weather
in january gives me the chills.
exactly five years has come and gone
since last this notebook was picked up and dusted off
and words fit neatly between the lines
as if it was always meant for them to be there.
five years exactly to this day
and not a thing has been lost in the fray.
my reclusive nature is now an act of convenience and necessity
rather than novelty and chance as it once has been.
what i am wondering is whether the practice will pay off.
funny how the things i thought to be the cause of much discomfort,
after alleviating, appear to have no bearing
on said sad situation at all.
in as many ways as change has come,
the same old tricks were not undone.
all of this has piled up, dues stacked higher, tax paper-cuts…
abe and george with all their sage copper wisdom and silvery honesty
honestly cannot keep up with these damn bills.
living the high life, et al, prices are pricey
and organic produce does not come cheep.
never enough and always too much laundry,
yet somehow, fashion has yet to get old.
hockey sticks and hocus pocus have had their days.
i’m standing still, stuck tight to time,
o rolling stone – have you the rhyme?

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