i checked the shoe box in
the closet, i have 54$ in cash
a small part of me wishes
i had millions,

but another part of me
is glad i don't.
the wanting takes root in that i
wish i could fly down to see you;

(new york is far away,
though you remain in my heart)
(realistically it
would be a taxi then train-ride) but truthfully

the burden of money
is greater than that of a broken heart.
my father didn't have
to teach me that;

for
the world did instead.