In this, the International Year of Wealth Management,
I had a fever about to break like a promise.
I spent my money wisely. The banks shivered, snapped,
spent a few months in a cast and emerged pale and new.
I insisted on actual rain in the claymation video.
I lingered in the committee room. When singing was needed,
I sung. I wrote a book on the new slang –
summary: the rigging’s faulty, the lighting all wrong.
Night squeezed my shoulder and said,
Good shift, son. I looked up at the stars, gathered them in
like a shepherd gathers his flock before dinner.
I spent my money wisely. I ate well.