Why I Shan’t Be Gorging on Caviar-Toasted Ritz Crackers in Gold-Plated Clawfoot Tubs Anytime Soon

Suncatchers blind commuters on the sour streets of New Haven
as frogs croak wildly at 2 AM

Nylons slither down my scrawny legs
in obeisance to gravity

Mother’s glasses sit askew on her aquiline nose
after too many Mai Tai’s in the pre-dawn light

And you wonder why the mechanisms of Wall Street
interest me not in the least?


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