The homeless need to give me money.
I have a mortgage and need it more.
The banks are depending on me to get rich.
Should we care about the flea that makes the vagabond itch?
Life goes upward and onward forever, sad to say.
Not that I’m going to get into a conversation with a bum
And make a pitch for cash as they give me a strange look.
We might become friends if we talked,
Though I hate that I-haven’t-bathed smell,
And I don’t have time for conversation. I’m on a lunch break
And there’s not one good decent lunch place around here
Except for the Indian restaurant I had my heart set on,
And they’re closed for improvements.
Slyly borrowing money to get more. We get it. We have nothing
But the need for money. Even love
Is a strategy to get more money—you want something
You can use to change something into something else.
When we walk into a restaurant money is everywhere.
Even when we just walk along, the meter is running.
We need money even to experience nonchalant nature. Do you think
There’s anything for free? Do you? Money is always on the brain.
Quickly pull some out and make someone happy.
Or save it. You know money will eventually do it for you.
No one is going to just come up and buy you. But if they
Wanted you, wouldn’t that be flattering? I love you
And that means I would be willing to pay for you. The
Exchange—of which money is the light when want rubs against want;
All this money and rubbing and money and rubbing,
Exchange, exchange. Exchange ancient for modern
Behind every university office and banker’s stall.
I want the light right now. I want the money.
The money that makes money is the best money.
The one with more money always needs it more than you.
