A Likely Story: The Manhattan Sonnets

Monday, December 14, 2009

The Manhattan Sonnets - 5

I hate it that you’re never there with me
  At spots I can’t afford; it hurts like sin
To see you as some moneybag’s jeune fille,
  Like you’re first prize and Rich Boy cries “I win!”
While he throws me a look that screams: “You lose!”
  And by his rules?  I have and always will.
I can’t compete with him; you’ll always choose
  Suites over sweet and T-bills over Bill –-
At least when you’re with him.  When you’re with me,
  It’s places he would not be caught in dead.
His rooftops and my dives lack alchemy:
  His silver will not marry with my lead.
     He dazzles you with gold, and cannot see:
     In your eyes, even lead is currency.