Every wallet I've owned has seen
more dust and identification cards
than an abandoned asylum.

and if I were to measure my wealth,
it would be in three appointment slips,
ninety-two Chinese fortunes,
and a single Press-a-Penny
tucked behind a folded note
documenting symbols from
a dream I had at seventeen.

but if you were to ask me
to measure my worth, I could tell you
that ninety-two fortune cookies had
a lot to say about me, and the penny
reads "Lucky," and lucky I am.

because my heart has more space
in just four chambers than Trump Hotel's
penthouse suites, and my mind
is always at work to keep it running,

and my mouth eagerly waits to offer
conversation over boxed wine,
a laugh for every clever line you speak
in regards to the inconvenience of rainy days,
and a cordial invitation for you
to enjoy any of my four cherry suites
any day of the week, (even when it's sunny.)

oh, could you adore a broke man?
I can't make any reservations,
but my heart is always expanding,
and you don't have to pay any rent
to keep warm.