WHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot,                       *sweet
The drought of March hath pierced to the root,
And bathed every vein in such licour,
Of which virtue engender'd is the flower;
When Zephyrus eke with his swoote breath
Inspired hath in every holt and heath                    grove, forest
The tender croppes and the younge sun                    twigs, boughs
Hath in the Ram  his halfe course y-run,
And smalle fowles make melody,
That sleepen all the night with open eye,
(So pricketh them nature in their corages);       hearts, inclinations
Then longe folk to go on pilgrimages,
And palmers  for to seeke strange strands,
To *ferne hallows couth  in sundry lands;     distant saints known
And specially, from every shire's end
Of Engleland, to Canterbury they wend,
The holy blissful Martyr for to seek,
That them hath holpen, when that they were sick.                helped

Befell that, in that season on a day,
In Southwark at the Tabard  as I lay,
Ready to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Canterbury with devout corage,
At night was come into that hostelry
Well nine and twenty in a company
Of sundry folk, by aventure y-fall            who had by chance fallen
In fellowship, and pilgrims were they all,           into company.
That toward Canterbury woulde ride.
The chamber, and the stables were wide,
And well we weren eased at the best.            we were well provided
And shortly, when the sunne was to rest,                  with the best
So had I spoken with them every one,
That I was of their fellowship anon,
And made forword* early for to rise,                            promise
To take our way there as I you devise.                describe, relate

But natheless, while I have time and space,
Ere that I farther in this tale pace,
Me thinketh it accordant to reason,
To tell you alle the condition
Of each of them, so as it seemed me,
And which they weren, and of what degree;
And eke in what array that they were in:
And at a Knight then will I first begin.

A KNIGHT there was, and that a worthy man,
That from the time that he first began
To riden out, he loved chivalry,
Truth and honour, freedom and courtesy.
Full worthy was he in his Lorde's war,
And thereto had he ridden, no man farre,                       farther
As well in Christendom as in Heatheness,
And ever honour'd for his worthiness
At Alisandre  he was when it was won.
Full often time he had the board begun
Above alle nations in Prusse.
In Lettowe had he reysed, and in Russe,                      journeyed
No Christian man so oft of his degree.
In Grenade at the siege eke had he be
Of Algesir, and ridden in Belmarie.
At Leyes was he, and at Satalie,
When they were won; and in the Greate Sea
At many a noble army had he be.
At mortal battles had he been fifteen,
And foughten for our faith at Tramissene.
In listes thries, and aye slain his foe.
This ilke worthy knight had been also                         same
Some time with the lord of Palatie,
Against another heathen in Turkie:
And evermore *he had a sovereign price.            He was held in very
And though that he was worthy he was wise,                 high esteem.
And of his port as meek as is a maid.
He never yet no villainy ne said
In all his life, unto no manner wight.
He was a very perfect gentle knight.
But for to telle you of his array,
His horse was good, but yet he was not gay.
Of fustian he weared a gipon,                            short doublet
Alle besmotter'd with his habergeon,     soiled by his coat of mail.
For he was late y-come from his voyage,
And wente for to do his pilgrimage.

With him there was his son, a younge SQUIRE,
A lover, and a ***** bacheler,
With lockes crulle* as they were laid in press.                  curled
Of twenty year of age he was I guess.
Of his stature he was of even length,
And *wonderly deliver, and great of strength.      wonderfully nimble
And he had been some time in chevachie,                  cavalry raids
In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie,
And borne him well, as of so little space,      in such a short time
In hope to standen in his lady's grace.
Embroider'd was he, as it were a mead
All full of freshe flowers, white and red.
Singing he was, or fluting all the day;
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Short was his gown, with sleeves long and wide.
Well could he sit on horse, and faire ride.
He coulde songes make, and well indite,
Joust, and eke dance, and well pourtray and write.
So hot he loved, that by nightertale                        night-time
He slept no more than doth the nightingale.
Courteous he was, lowly, and serviceable,
And carv'd before his father at the table.

A YEOMAN had he, and servants no mo'
At that time, for him list ride so         it pleased him so to ride
And he was clad in coat and hood of green.
A sheaf of peacock arrows bright and keen
Under his belt he bare full thriftily.
Well could he dress his tackle yeomanly:
His arrows drooped not with feathers low;
And in his hand he bare a mighty bow.
A nut-head  had he, with a brown visiage:
Of wood-craft coud* he well all the usage:                         knew
Upon his arm he bare a gay bracer,                        small shield
And by his side a sword and a buckler,
And on that other side a gay daggere,
Harnessed well, and sharp as point of spear:
A Christopher on his breast of silver sheen.
An horn he bare, the baldric was of green:
A forester was he soothly as I guess.                        certainly

There was also a Nun, a PRIORESS,
That of her smiling was full simple and coy;
Her greatest oathe was but by Saint Loy;
And she was cleped  Madame Eglentine.                           called
Full well she sang the service divine,
Entuned in her nose full seemly;
And French she spake full fair and fetisly                    properly
After the school of Stratford atte Bow,
For French of Paris was to her unknow.
At meate was she well y-taught withal;
She let no morsel from her lippes fall,
Nor wet her fingers in her sauce deep.
Well could she carry a morsel, and well keep,
That no droppe ne fell upon her breast.
In courtesy was set full much her lest.                       pleasure
Her over-lippe wiped she so clean,
That in her cup there was no farthing seen                       speck
Of grease, when she drunken had her draught;
Full seemely after her meat she raught:           reached out her hand
And *sickerly she was of great disport,     surely she was of a lively
And full pleasant, and amiable of port,                     disposition
And pained her to counterfeite cheer              took pains to assume
Of court,* and be estately of mannere,            a courtly disposition
And to be holden digne of reverence.                            worthy
But for to speaken of her conscience,
She was so charitable and so pitous,                      full of pity
She woulde weep if that she saw a mouse
Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled.
Of smalle houndes had she, that she fed
With roasted flesh, and milk, and *wastel bread.   finest white bread
But sore she wept if one of them were dead,
Or if men smote it with a yarde* smart:                           staff
And all was conscience and tender heart.
Full seemly her wimple y-pinched was;
Her nose tretis; her eyen gray as glass;               well-formed
Her mouth full small, and thereto soft and red;
But sickerly she had a fair forehead.
It was almost a spanne broad I trow;
For *hardily she was not undergrow.       certainly she was not small
Full fetis* was her cloak, as I was ware.                          neat
Of small coral about her arm she bare
A pair of beades, gauded all with green;
And thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen,
On which was first y-written a crown'd A,
And after, *Amor vincit omnia.                      love conquers all
Another Nun also with her had she,
[That was her chapelleine, and PRIESTES three.]

A MONK there was, a fair for the mast'ry,       above all others
An out-rider, that loved venery;                               *hunting
A manly man, to be an abbot able.
Full many a dainty horse had he in stable:
And when he rode, men might his bridle hear
Jingeling  in a whistling wind as clear,
And eke as loud, as doth the chapel bell,
There as this lord was keeper of the cell.
The rule of Saint Maur and of Saint Benet,
Because that it was old and somedeal strait
This ilke monk let olde thinges pace,                             same
And held after the newe world the trace.
He *gave not of the text a pulled hen,                he cared nothing
That saith, that hunters be not holy men:                  for the text
Ne that a monk, when he is cloisterless;
Is like to a fish that is waterless;
This is to say, a monk out of his cloister.
This ilke text held he not worth an oyster;
And I say his opinion was good.
Why should he study, and make himselfe wood                   *mad
Upon a book in cloister always pore,
Or swinken with his handes, and labour,                           toil
As Austin bid? how shall the world be served?
Let Austin have his swink to him reserved.
Therefore he was a prickasour aright:                       hard rider
Greyhounds he had as swift as fowl of flight;
Of pricking and of hunting for the hare                         riding
Was all his lust, for no cost would he spare.                 pleasure
I saw his sleeves *purfil'd at the hand       *worked at the end with a
With gris, and that the finest of the land.          fur called "gris"
And for to fasten his hood under his chin,
He had of gold y-wrought a curious pin;
A love-knot in the greater end there was.
His head was bald, and shone as any glass,
And eke his face, as it had been anoint;
He was a lord full fat and in good point;
His eyen steep, and rolling in his head,                      deep-set
That steamed as a furnace of a lead.
His bootes supple, his horse in great estate,
Now certainly he was a fair prelate;
He was not pale as a forpined ghost;                            wasted
A fat swan lov'd he best of any roast.
His palfrey was as brown as is a berry.

A FRIAR there was, a wanton and a merry,
A limitour , a full solemne man.
In all the orders four is none that can                          knows
So much of dalliance and fair language.
He had y-made full many a marriage
Of younge women, at his owen cost.
Unto his order he was a noble post;
Full well belov'd, and familiar was he
With franklins *over all in his country,                   everywhere
And eke with worthy women of the town:
For he had power of confession,
As said himselfe, more than a curate,
For of his order he was licentiate.
Full sweetely heard he confession,
And pleasant was his absolution.
He was an easy man to give penance,
There as he wist to have a good pittance:      *where he know

The day had entered the twilight time I heard an old train whistle I surrendered to the call of far
Away and I found myself back in time it was Saturday the family was going to town to the
Weeks shopping we parked in the alley past the feed store it was the way we started out we
Walked past the entry where we kids would go in on Easter to get the two free chicks then
You would go back to the bins and buy the fifty cent bag of pellets the fun involved the box with
The light the fruit jar that turned upside down with the lid fixed with indentations that as the
Chicks would drink and throw their heads back the water would bubble down like a water
Cooler little yellow fur ***** what a treat and delight but we would go in the big wide door that
Held the giant stand up scale with the great face and the smell of grain with a thin dust film on
Everything all of that and get your weight to how great was that back out in the sunlight dad
And I would go to Jims for a hair cut we all practiced cutting through stores you could go up the
Alley right beside Woolworths but what fun was best was parking behind Ben Franklins walking
In through the outer supply era and at the back of the store were the fiber barrels with the pink
And vanilla wafers they were a penny and I always got one of each at the barber shop the comic
Books were stacked high and the men were always having a talk fest and Jim whistled a tune
That was just as good as the theme of the Andy Griffith show we did a little bit of Mayberry all
Of us standing in the dark alley beside Rudow’s grocery waiting for them to do the weekly pony
Raffle I never won but I had access to the laker’s pony it was a good thing we had hard enough
Time feeding ourselves and the dog well we did have twenty seven at one time on the farm it
Was the A&P; for groceries run back home put them away and then go out across the drive set
In the shade as a family and eat A&P; Jane Parker Apple pie you would think it was desert at the
Green house restaurant on Market Street in Frisco where all the waiters wore tux’s know this
Was the time of grape Mogen David wine that was fairly priced in the family size jug but there
We set with a five gallon white plastic bucket with blackberries fermenting well dad must have
Already been tipsy that bucket had weeds other debris I won’t hazard a guess of what it was
But let me tell you the cloth on top didn’t help much I used to make a joke about espresso and
That strong Cuban coffee my complaint was it tasted like Wan and his mule was still inside well
This homemade wine hot long brown weeds I don’t care how country you are some things are
Better left alone like going out to our friends and have a meal they would put the milk in this
Big blue greenish half gallon right from the cow there would be lines moving around an oh yes
Don’t forget the snapping turtle we ran over and almost knocked me off my seat and those cars
Were heavy well quick as a country cook could do it turtle stew yum wants some excuse me
Folks As long as these people have a front yard full of grass I’m good you eat a while then chase
Lighting bugs now that’s what belongs in a jar and Like Dan Ackroad said in the movie and their
Butts light up well I didn’t have time to mention Tanners show uptown Sad Sack army show
With Jerry and Dean Gordon Scott as Tarzan they didn’t give the warning don’t try this at home
Or on the way home because in bums jungle where the bums all hang out between trains yes
There were vines on the trees but I don’t think Tarzan let go and rolled in the undergrowth that
Was filled with poison Ivy well Gordon never got to go from Tarzan to the mummy all white
With Copperas lay in the car across the street in the car like a dog with flees while your family
Is in the Home town café eating and the best part getting thrown out of the pool but I have a
Season pass well least climb a tree watch the fun and then a scene from the horror flicks of
The Day a little kid and his mother walk under the tree mommy mommy there is a monster in
the Tree and you wonder why I write I tore out of the tree like a cat possessed I ran over and
Hid in the big pavilion with the invisible man well that’s my home town how about yours

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the George Washingtons
of my generation.
I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the Thomas Jeffersons
and the
Benjamin Franklins who
aren't afraid to dream of
words that haven't been
created
and things that have
yet to be
designed.
I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the
Revolutionaries who
have yet to be
born.
For the Paul Reveres
who have yet
to take their midnight
rides
one if by land,
two if by sea.
one if by land,
two if by sea.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the
modern day
Lewis and Clarks who
explored a land beyond
exploration's eye.
For the Sacagawea guides that
guide from a shining sea
to a sea of gold.
For the immigrants who
traversed waters of salty tears
made solely of their own fears.
I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the slaves held captive
not by their captors,
but by their own fears,
hopes,
desires
and dreams.
Afraid to pursue a land
just slightly beyond their own
R          e          a          c          h.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the conductors of the railroad
that was unseen.
The one that ran not on
coal and steam,
but the one that
ran on
Dreams.

I wanta write a poem for the ages,
for the Teddy Roosevelt
conservationists
and the Stravinsky
concert pianists
and the Maya Angelou
performers,
and the,
people.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the soldiers battling
for a cause they didn't
even start.
For the lives that gave their
lives for a cause,
because they believed in
The cause.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the Daddy who's still
looking for work,
For the Mommy who has
given up
Hope.
For the widow and
her orphan,
For the soup kitchens
that can't
stay open long enough.
For the failing
Economy.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the mustached
man in Germany
rising to a power
ever Grand.
For the nations willing to
ignore it if they can.
For the day that everything
changed.
December 7th, 1941
will forever live
in infamy.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the unconquered Jews who
fought back.
For Anne Frank and her
family.

I wanta write a poem for the ages
For the modern day
Martin Luther King
Jr.'s.
For the ones
who
Aren't afraid to challenge a
System designed to
fight against them.
For the
modern day
Claudette Colvins.
The ones who
aren't afraid to sit down
to make a stand.

I wanta write poem for the ages
For the modern day
Buzz Aldrins
who are
altogether underrated
Just
because they came in
Second.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
A poem that speaks louder
than words
and goes beyond
generations.

So I wrote a poem for the ages.

Still be hoggin' in the game
Ya know my name
Yosef is the same
That was since i was born
N served my cain
I got these hippies going insane
Against the grain
I drop the real **** blood ****
That start wars n ****
Reach my hands in the pulpits
Of hell broke out the cell
Now all exposed is hell i dont yell
I let my guns brag n tell
N you can tell i been through drama
By lookin' into my eyes
Ya see a cold glare stoppin' stare
Ya cant figure me out im all.about
Big bens franklins to washingtons
Dolla dolla bill yall i stand tall
With my hand on my *****
Slap it across ya jaws
Now how it taste to be the big boss
Im.outta space
My layers come in ozone so why dont ya phone home
***** i hit a switch pop a lick
Now ya laying hands clutched
In a casket
Stiff n cold ya neva thought yya could fold
But i broke through ya mold
Rode with the baddest OGs
Your game is the saddest **** ****
Like Gladys
Night im on the midnight train to Georgia
So pour me up some of that drank
Sit n park my mind n thank
Uh all my enemies couldnt the best of me
Cuz they wanna get paper like me
Cheese is stinkin' got ya eyes blinkin'
So fast im gone like a lightening flash
N ya can call it what ya want
But the west side riders is gone taunt


Yea fools im old school like Rodney O
With everlasting bass fo
Ya *** finish yo *** with the chrome thats stash
My heaters make ya sweat im an imminent
Threat so forget
All that chit chat
These cats aint spittin' facts
Facts is they wack as soulja boy
Droppin' Superman never been a fan
Of ***** **** im down for gangsta ****
Roll with OGs n TGs who push ozs to keys
No fleas
No me cuz im sucker free **** the industry
Im callin' out everybody
That done did it o ya ******* ya been admitted
To my ICU Camp
Ya couldnt even pay ya way out
With a billion dolla foodstamps
I hit ya with stamp ya know im postal
Quick to grab a pistol split yo temple
100s or 300s spinnin' off the box top
Caprice 84 with vogues n switches on hop
Cant stop wont stop
Its still one eighty seven on a undacovee cop
Beat the case cuz i keep been big bens in my case check the smile on my face
We aint grimy we shining hotter than sun
The luminous one knock off the crumbs
Off my table cuz yall aint able
To handle me too hot to touch
N if ya try my whole clique gone blow up
On you what ya gone do?
Red white or blue?
Doi have to spell it naw ill just let my past deade enemies tell it!!!

Not ornate just ordinary screen wire but as you passed through it you entered the perfect world
Of the fifties the grocery aisles were short and compact because it was just a neighborhood
Grocery but it had everything you needed bread aisle the aisle with fruit cans vegetables paper
Towels a small shelf for hardware items and in the back the meat and dairy department back
Up to the front of the store behind the counter was the cereal boxes stacked high where the
Grocer had to use the first grabber to easily lift boxes from the top shelf then the bakery goods
In the glass counter under the cash register every doughnut you could ever want and over by
The door a barrel of kites and string on the shelf to fly them this was the provision and under
Writing of the fifties you stood in this insulated haven without regard to time and place the
Great locomotives rambled and roared just down the hill filling some with fear others with
Undying gratitude when they heard that lonesome whistle blow as it approached and receded
The haunting night sounds that best establishes the fifties echo and emotional content the old
Grey grocer created the mood of trust and stability keeping greater truths and dangers at great
Lengths mother and dad’s voices made up more of the vintage life known at that time peace
And restraint held you at the edges of small towns and their boundaries and the family barber
Whistled like Andy on Mayberry and had the same family and social beliefs it further carried you Forth into the sweet life that was the fifties the small hardware stores had that feel of small
Wonder the whole nation to a degree was on display within these walls all items that were small and needed were here in great supply it was cozy it delighted it made a small town larger by its
Connections to the rest of the country and where it fell short JC Penny across the street and
Montgomery Ward down the street made up the difference where they left off Murrays
Jeffrey’s television completed the hook up that great symbol of RCA at Murrays the dog and the
Phonograph and the wonderful team of Jack and his lovely wife made up the team at Jeffrey’s
They were between Woolworths and Ben Franklins dime store and for good measure Pop
Sinnard’s malt shop was next door across the street the Roseland Theater no it’s not the fifties
anymore the movie house is threatened by projectors all going digital the fight is on to save this
one special place where you lined up for Elvis down the block and around the corner Saturday
Matinees nothing better than the Bowery boys with Uncle Lou Sach and Slip rounded off by
Lewis and Martin the rings keep flowing outward if you don’t return in real time you do in mind
and heart from now on and the fifties are the greatest part of that reunion it was rock & roll
cool and so much more as Bob would say thanks for the memories

Material objects tempt you
To leave your mildewy rags in the rearview
I know who can help you, he'll be here soon
Meaning he's arriving you just gotta sign this
Contractually obligating your silence
It's not science
Even a blind ***** would find this
Excitin'
See he's taken an interest in ya thighs
and how ya roll ya eyes like you know it all
But trust me when the dough's involved no ya don't

Your just tossing out them bills
Throwing em out like it gives you a thrill
Gives me chills, when the heats shut off
Coughing and coughing, I'm getting sick
Waiting on that ****, lickity split
Pass it around, I'm losing it
This ******* piling higher, I'm getting higher
Jumping out the window like that **** on fire
Waiting on a refund for all the time spent
No dimes or dollars even make a dent
Remorseful, with a side of content

Wait up ***** aint they raisin your rent
You need a sugar daddy not a diabetic
Let him take away your woes with a couple franklins
Getcha takin off clothes at his banks expense
Sayin that you bad, need a spankin then
And since you want attention this is what you get
Hard **** and love are two different things
but watch me blur the lines like the drink you sip
I've never been good with relationships  
And I lie tryna hide I'm fake as ****
But come to the bedroom
Got money and head room just so we dont drown when the blankets wet
Afterwards you smoke get your makeup fixed
Ask about bank while I take a ****
Throw you twenty to make complaining quit
Do i smell like money, honey?
Take a whiff

I smell something, it aint no money
You wanna play?
Imma need more than some stacks
and some grass to want yo ***
This aint no game of tic tac toe
Three in a row aint gonna beat my woes
You're reaping what you sow
Can't just throw out them bills no mo
It's rich, but you're not
You thought you had what you bought
But I walked, watch your wallet
Cause it can't cash your *******
This aint a relationship
Save it, I aint falling for ****
You aint having it your way
But I'm lovin it

Ya’ll ****. (Myself included, I said everybody, didn’t I)?
Forbes, a magazine for rich wannabes, says:
85 people control half of the world’s wealth (yet, nobody obsesses)
In my rural hometown alone,
that’d be the equivalent of a disembodied ****** hole
calling all the shots from a platinum throne inside the town hall
“Keep plowing! Keep selling! PLLLLLPPPPPP!
Sop up my **** with all those Benjamins, and bring the Russian ballet in!”
In between **** and brain rotters, everyone else watches ******,
with his handsome silk hat on,
shake hands with the petty bourgeoisie in suits
Little lap dogs
licking up all the slimy brown Franklins

Uncle Sam sat down across from me and placed his satchel on the floor.
It was time to pay the piper; that is God’s immutable law.
I tapped my bony finger, impatient to begin.
“That will be fifty eight thousand, Sam, starting with Tonkin.”

From his satchel, that seemed bottomless, Sam produced the cash.
“Start counting!” I demanded, as I drooled over his stash.
He started pilling Franklins up on the table there between us.
Each “C” note meant one hundred dead Due to McNamara’s genius.

Fathers and sons had fallen; young men by the score.
Just think of the girls they never kissed; the children they never saw.
Uncle Sam doled out the bills until his thumbs were sore
When he finished I took out my Scythe and swept them on the floor.

I saw Sam’s look of horror at my eyeless, nose less face.
He had counted out a treasure that he knew he can't replace.
“It was a Pleasure doing business.” Oh, how I despised that man!
Still I was certain that we’d meet often,even after Vietnam.

Mountebanks and madmen
And marvelous maidens
Populate and pollute politics
Which joss sticks cannot chase
Or alleviate the electorate
In its counter clockwise swirl
Down its own bathroom drain.
Only morals don’t ameliorate
It only exacerbates, enervates
Rather than eliminates the pain.

The pain is felt by franklins,
Never the nobles or magnates;
They go on and make play dates
With other multi-billionaires
In debonair pied-a-terre lofts
And scoff at the peasantry
While exchanging pleasantries
Over gold-laced desserts
Thinking nobody gets hurt
If they pilfer and pillage
Far off village and town
Tearing down and razing,
With life grazing scorched earth.

To the rich, nobody has worth;
Voices that implore are muted
And garbage-chuted in the press.
Nothing to confess, the smile;
A mile of porcelainized teeth
Made more intense by pretense
That importance is impotence
In the face of extreme wealth
When stealth cease efficacy
And delicacy isn’t required.
The moral judge is fired.
A new wife is squired
In hopes a son is sired
To take over the empire.

it’s a Lincoln penny love,
a Washington dollar,
an Eisenhower dime,
or is it a Roosevelt?
a Jackson twenty,

‘what’s money?’

its the scratch, the dough,
some cheddar
fifty cent, hell bent,
greenbacks,
smackeroonies, baby

‘daddy?’

a buck darlin’,
a Hamilton,
a ***,
some Franklins,
a hole in your pocket

‘in my pocket?’

a deuce, some beans,
some jingling nickels,
rocks in the bank,
a stack in the kitchen

‘daddy, tell the truth’

its a diplomatic swindler,
an accidental cruelty
manufactured in holy casinos
called capitalism

‘I don’t know those words’

its a carrot that puts down riots,

fights, I mean,
a fortress of glitter and cyanide
we fight for and within through lonely
comas of obedience

‘let’s talk about something else’

its the mint that grew
in the temple of Juno,
goddess and protector of
the Roman state

‘I like mint’

me too

‘is money mint?’

money is minted,
so, kinda

‘but you can’t eat money
like mint
and you can't make tea’

that’s very true...

Malevolence
It tastes so good
under false pretense

Bottle it up—paste it!
on Wall Street’s walls—watch
them all come racing
throwing Franklins just to fall

into a love that will erode them
in all its nitric opulence
What fools for malevolence
under false pretense.

We know, you and I (fix that tie)
that cruelty comes for free

I don’t buy abuse—
It pays for me.

Deposits soft-lipped guises
that always seem to last
I’m rich on lies—
I pound the glass.

Keep your change!
(My suit is screaming)
Lift your lids
Call our bluff
Drop not a cent
on malice decadent:

It will find you soon enough.

The following is an account of
expenses in connection
with the Underwood investigation.

Expense account item #1:
$24, cab fare to your office.
Case of Jane Underwood,

Seattle, not seen
the last eight days.
Insurance policy on

her: $10 million.
I took the case.
I cocked my hat

low over my eyes,
cigarette behind the ear.
Expense account item #2:

$322.74, airfare to Seattle.
I interviewed the family,
the friends, the husband -

they all had alibis -
& also the man
she was seeing on the sly.

Expense account item #3:
$33.08, two packs of cigarettes,
a pack of gum, and a beer

at the neighborhood bar
where I watched Jake Wilson -
the Other Man in the picture.

Expense account item #4:
$29.90, cab fare from the hospital
where Wilson just gave it up.

I found him folded under
a neon sign by a cheap hotel.
I didn't see where the shots came from.

Someone wants Underwood
the stay missing, very missing.
Expense account item #5:

$120, a new coat, the old one
has bullet holes. More close calls.
Digging around, I learn

Wilson was knee deep
in counterfeiting Franklins.
Crowbar to the basement door

of the house he was renting
under a different name,
I found the missing woman,

cuffed to a radiator, mostly fine.
She found out about the funny money,
threatened to go to the cops

unless Wilson cut her in.
She was over her head.
But then - so was I -

who shot Wilson?
Expense account item #6:
$75, marriage license, King County.

Jane Underwood and I are
running away together
with the bad hundreds.

Time to end one of these
stories the easy way.
Tired of Hartford,

tired of heart's noir,
consider me retired.
But then, holding her hand

driving to Los Angeles,
her purse falls open
& the gun that killed Wilson

falls into the footwell.
It was all a setup. It always is.
Her hand gets cold, tight,

real tight. The ride
is about to get... difficult.
If only she knew, if only she knew

how many times I'd seen this
twist, how many women,
how many guns, how many

Wilsons had fallen to the ground
under how many cheap
blinking blue broken neon signs.

Won’t namedrop but I knew someone, if you know you know.
No teardrops but I thought that I found a matching soul.
Foolish of me, ******* love me when I’m in my prime.
Gonna keep them nameless, you ain’t worth of my time.
I’m speaking hella sharp, but I’ve been cutting ******* off.
I’ve been hanging with the stars, looking down at them from above.
You’re either with me or against me, either **** me or respect me, won’t exploit me for your own gain, won’t deliver any more pain.
That’s what I’m saying.
There’s more fakes out there than you know.
Not namedropping any though.

I only keep up with my x’s to see the progress I’ve made.
Wish I’d thought of all the x’s on the list of things I hate.
I was desperate and had nothing, you were greedy and forced-laughing.
One thing I could never respect is stirring thoughts inside my head.
And I get I’m not your type and I get your friends are cooler.
Understand I’m not a nine, don’t rain money at the jeweler.
Don’t follow your buddies’ insta, you ain’t even on my finsta.
Finna unfollow you instantly, you don’t double tap my pics now.
And don’t call if you gon’ cancel, amped me up and why was that?
Then you asking me for Franklins like I owe you anything.
I’ve seen hints and indications, that you weren’t genuine.
I just wish I trusted my gut when you dropped out on me and ghosted.
Right before my prom, should’ve spoke over that graveyard silence.
What the **** was wrong with me to let that go like nothing happened?
Oh, I know.
I had nobody else.
Least I’m not hypocritical, I offed whoever bugged me on.
Killed them with a swoop of success, brought the scissors out, cutoff.
Wonder why I’m so proud now and the answer’s clear as day.
You would too if you evolved from prey to bird of prey.
If you gon talk about me, know I didn’t have to be your frenemy.
Actually scratch that, the act is off, I’ll proudly be your enemy.
You just wanted the gleam and the glory that I had to give.
Just so you know I almost called off a whole affair for it.
See, I’m not a faker, least I admit I wanted you like that.
Many years now, I still hope somebody does you just like that.
I still don’t wish you dead, your downfall’s not what’s in my mind.
I learn from self-inflicted wounds and don’t make that mistake twice.
Won’t namedrop, it applies to more than one.
No-named hoes, I feel my worthiness now.
I lost my Madison card now, pay deserved hostility back, dropped the invisibility act, I did all you said I couldn’t.
Rubbed it in your face like snow, envy’s stinging ***? You blew it.
I could have a boyfriend but I’m good and I will find tranquility in reproving.
Reflecting about them got me irresolute and so I’m calling your BS for improving.

******* want what you have, so I make what I have known.
******* take what you offer, in exchange they give you none.
Real ****, I turn the valve off, whatever we had is gone.
You ain’t getting any of me, not even the low and worst.
Won’t namedrop, but it’s all I’ve ever truly known.
Would namedrop, but that’s against my point.
Won’t call out, can’t win once the die are thrown.
We fell out out of place, cause you pushy like dominoes.
True story, ******* only loved me when I brought them pride by association.
Long story short, only acknowledged me upon receiving shared congratulations.
So I turned my back and ******* scattered disinterested in all directions.
I’d rather look for true bonds than relish false and forced appreciation.
And I ain’t feel the need to hear them say it for finalization.
If I said I hate you for that **** that’d be an exaggeration.
Grudge’s an understatement, I could argue but want no continuation.
One day you’ll perch in the shadow I cast and have your realization.
I heard unforgiveness is unhealthy, but since I found respect for me, I’ve been feeling myself.
You’ve got every right to hate me, sure as **** you won’t exploit me, you’d be playing yourself.
It’s these no-names that reinforced my insecure soul.
You gotta lose something to be grateful for your all.
You gotta have nothing to fearlessly give your all.
And as cliché as it is, every heartbreak makes you flyer.
Every stabbing gives you scars and the scars they give you power.
I take pride in my journey to a menace from a coward.
What I lost was never mine and what is truly mine will find me.
I could wait my whole life for it, nobody’s ***** just to feel happy.