Money Is Not Everything

at the party
they are not drunk yet
and they are talking
about money, and i begin to brag
about pisyu,

how i
caress the bottom of pisyu
who eats anything
and keeps everything
but does not
expel anything,

rich pisyu knows where the
money is,
and all you have to do
is please it
with your
ringfinger
and money comes in bulk
inside your
trunk,

at the party
they never talk about
my own
peculiar
loneliness

they avoid my eyes
because my gaze is deadly
and transforms them
into stones.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!