Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Money

What is all this talk about money?
Money corrupts the soul.
Money is the source of too much fighting.
Money is the diamond lost,
the red-haired toddler in the family portrait,
the one you want to avoid.
Money is a disease,
a possessed woman
thin and triangular
pulling you from room to room
by your balls.
Money is the blemished son,
the cracked daughter,
the veiled bride
ugly on her wedding night.
Money walks in cities
like a whore
taking all that it can get
and promising more.
I know of what I speak.
I once desired the tender green too.
I listened with glee to the sound of silver
in my pockets,
found delight in picking up the stray nickel.
Marveled at my luck when my stocks went up.
Now I know the truth.
Money is the divider.
It separates the haves from have nots.
The winners from losers.
The prisoner from the free man.
Money is the chain that keeps us bound
to mediocrity
forever.