The old bank
Reeks of money
And greed
Swirling with the
Overhead ceiling fans,
The imaginary masses
Of the past filling
The downstairs where
The tellers used to sit
Cashing industry pay checks
for blue collared
The ache for cash now
Mingling with perfume
And petty schemes
Stamped out on faces
Rather than the backs
Of paychecks
Always looking for the
Easy way, when the right
Way is always too hard
And always thinking
This is “earning” a keep
When it’s just a cheat
While out the windows
Sunny skies defies
The season as if
Part of the scheme
With me, curled up inside
Waiting for it all
To unravel
Like it always must
The best laid plans
Ruined by the inept
Who keep picking
Losers to ride
While abandoned
Dreams flutter along
The sidewalks
Like fallen leaves
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