The Love of Money

Another crowded night at Tootsie’s
in downtown Nashville, packed in
hip to hip, no room for elbows,
the band is good, beer cold.

The owner of the local hockey team
has taken up residence at the front
corner of the bar, surrounded by busty
sycophants about 30 years younger.

He comes supplied with a stack of one
dollar bills. Occasionally, between songs,
he takes part of the stack and tosses
them into the air to scatter among the crowd.

He smiles the smile of a gleeful bastard
at the frenzy created. I do not know who
disgusts me more: the rich prick
throwing crumbs to the peons, or those

down on the floor scrambling for a dollar.

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8 Comments

Filed under Poetry

8 responses to “The Love of Money

  1. i would say both…
    they are all part of the broke machine.

  2. You’re better run out of there…

  3. Yes, both disgust me. But there is a third guilty party — Tootsies, which allows such a spectacle to goon!

  4. Ah good question isn’t it? Gives new meaning to “take the money and run.”

  5. Wowzers, I can see it so clearly and I’m with you. Yoiks. Well written.

  6. I would so not go there.

  7. You have created the sense of time and place with a sure hand and the subject matter is very topical. I enjoyed your poem very much.

  8. I enjoyed your poem much. Money goes both ways: good and bad.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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