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The Money Collar

they had a big feast
in Yosemite at the
Ahwahnee Hotel

it was Thanksgiving
and they were giving thanks
to the gods of self indulgence
for the right to flaunt
and play dumb

100 dollars a plate
for dinner
700 dollars a night
for the cheap rooms

it was not for the
faint of wallet

masks were discarded
as precautions to scoff at

they thought they were
safe behind their
bank accounts
and their foul proof
positions

they were,
in the fact of irony,
socially distant

the staff,
who had no choice
but to wait tables
and serve food,
crossed their fingers,
their anger
held at bay
– for now

while,
like the masque
of the red death,
the spectral
pandemic
walked the
hallways
in costume,
making small
talk with the idiot
children of
landed bandits

it was almost
midnight

and me

I dreamed of a
street of rage
where another
eventuality
took the stage

where shiny blades
were raised to fall
so little time
they couldn’t
get them all

but they tried
yes, they tried

and there was one
spectacular and fine
who wore a knitted collar
made of dollar signs

an impenetrable fortune
around the jugular neck
a vaccine of
cashier’s checks

the masked executioner
bowed to his better
and sighed

“lay your head here
your majesty”

majesty smiled
“of course,
I will be fine
– I have my collar of
dollar signs””

the executioner’s
mask slipped

majesty blanched
– “i know you!”

“yes, you do”

I woke up