i have a little man
he collects money
in a slot at the back
of his cranium..

made of caste iron
his smile red says
with sad blue eyes
put a penny in

and one day a fortune
by my murdering
wiles
will be yours..

meanwhile i will
prop up this dusty
old mirror
with cloven hoofs

dig land fill
and gleefully
stare as everything
else falls away..