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Penny Wise

His copper skin reveals its true patina, 
as fickle fancies for lusty jalepeno harlots
amuse. Giggles pepper wishing wells by moonlight,
perfectly metered mirth to swish away sad.
Change jingles, saved for a rainy day.

His sunshine sings cicada songs, a muse,
perhaps a scratch, for the nasty itch of ennui.
Dimes and nickels can buy his way to Paradise, 
good pennies used for a no-name perfume. 
Song says he falls from heaven - into pockets, 

under cushions, in a child's toilet stall - (gulped 
without thinking) - even by drinking a fruity merlot
and stumbling like two left feet into someone else's 
loafers. Bubblegum blooms from his breath - 
underneath one can smell blood lust.

I count my greenbacks with glee, buy a steak 
and eat by the light of a three quarter moon -
a hearty reminder of when times were rich
and love wore a newly minted shine. I've earned
this reminisce. I've learned pound foolishness.

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