If things ever got so
bad that our money became
virtually worthless, it might be
possible to use poetry as a
medium of exchange.

The better the poem, the
greater the value.

A Pablo Neruda or David Ignatow
would be worth something like fifty dollars,
whereas a Rod McKuen might buy you a
candy bar.  Maybe.

Richard Brautigans would buy plenty, as well,
but make you question why you were
buying it at all.

A Bukowski poem
would be worth
thousands, but
looked upon as
foreign currency.

Of course, with the current rate of
inflation, one would need more and more Nerudas
and Ignatows just to get by, and eventually a loaf
of bread might cost as much as a short story.

To buy a car, one would need to come up with
two or three novels...good novels...a couple of
Haruki Murakamis.

It would take a wallet full of
Raymond Carver stories just to buy a
motorcycle.