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Money Poem

By Donald Dunbar

Poem

after James Gendron

        Money is an extrovert. Money is social, sociopathic. Money is important in many games, but less so in children’s games,
        and can be used in sex games, as when I paid my girlfriend for sex and she said, acting, “Money gets me wet.” Money gets wet;

        if money floats, it floats only for a minute. Money has been made into shelter, into clothing, cooked into food:
        it tastes like butter, fuzz, or blood. Money for beer? Money is power. Money is quiet. Money electronic.

        Money is ancient. Money is illegal to destroy, can be saved, often has a person’s face on it. Money ripped apart and put back together
        is still money, and can, in some circumstances, be used to own a person. Money, in most circumstances, can be used to own an animal. Money can be

        folded into an origami pig. Money has a lifespan, it can be nostalgic. Money fascinates most
        50-year-olds and is often given away by 90-year-olds. “Money” is the way some small children say

        “mommy,” rhymes with dozens of words, including “runny,” can be misheard as “many,” “mini,” “Manny,” and “muddy,” owns the word “buy.”
        Money is an anagram of “one my.” Money makes me excited, bored, and anxious; makes me think of food;

        makes the world go round; had to be invented. Money can be invested, can fill a bank, cannot fill a bank account, is usually counted in base-10—
        Money is non-monogamous. Money is sometimes “fun money”. Money’s blood money, hush money, dirty money, seed money.

        Money is not exactly wealth. “Money is a tool,” my parents tell me. Money is something my parents still ask me about, and one way
        people talk about the impact of 9/11. Money is on everyone around you right now; is useful in most social activities; is one reason for suicide.

        Money shot compilation. Money hidden in a flute. Money vs. people: who would win / vs. animals: who would win /
        vs. insects: who would win? Money is all over the room and you have one minute to grab as much as you can.

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DONALD DUNBAR lives in Portland, Oregon, and helps run If Not For Kidnap. His first book, Eyelid Lick, won the 2012 Fence Modern Poets prize, and a chapbook, Slow Motion German Adjectives, is out from Mammoth Editions. He's been interviewed by people besides himself at Harriet and BOMB.

Profile image: Drawing of Donald Dunbar by Zachary Schomburg

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