Exchange

Ah sure tis fame I craved,
more than anything, money
never meant nutin to me.

I liked the coins, you could
toss them, roll them or drill
holes in them, for washers.

I wrote a poem for a pint of
Guinness, one time, in a pub.
Guess what, I titled it barter!

               <>


            Barter

Wilde said he had nothing
to declare but his wit, well
if you happened to be an
officer at customs control,
you quite likely, would be
asking me if I was colour
blind after looking through
my suitcase, but I would
be telling you I’m dyslexic.

Tell me something Paddy,
do you go or stop at traffic
lights, when they are red ?



Ps

This is the poem I sold
for a pint of Guinness.