Account hold (a poem)

A bank error not in my favor—but then the account technically isn’t mine, so I get to enjoy the humor in the situation…

Four hundred billion dollars
to sit in this wood-paneled room
with the world’s third-ugliest shag carpet
while Little Cleo hides under the bed
for the sixth day in a row

Someone really needs to have
a serious talk with me
about my decision-making abilities

(27 August 2019—posted August 28th)



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