black friday
pop up ads
vanity fair
folded perfume
possess, covet
objects of pride
I’m better than you
insistence that
moneyed hierarchy
is the answer
will solve
all woes
sorry, not sorry
to say, this
accumulating life
is wasting time
on things (and
you’ve heard this
before), stuff won’t
make you happy
but instead, yes
love, it is
so simple
also free
I have a stack of one-dollar bills tucked away
in a drawer, because a friend told me that when
it happens, cash will be the only way to survive
without internet and impaired technological
devices. When it happens, I suppose I will want to
buy water and Clif Bars, and maybe some chocolate,
easy on the tongue, when everything else fails,
like power lines and no NBA game on TV.
And some days I find myself ruffling through the
bills, counting them up, imagining them tucked
into my jeans as I amble into jagged earthquaked
streets, or knee deep in the water of all demise.
And in these moments, my cherished
money looks like frail pieces of faded paper.
Meditation doesn’t care
about the book you wrote
what you posted online
or the car you drive
Meditation doesn’t care
about your rolex or
your job, so important
money made
Meditation doesn’t care
about all your friends
who go to parties
drink martinis
Meditation doesn’t care
about your writing
these words
bits of truth
