Summer and Money

SUMMER AND MONEY

If you had a lot of money in the bank,

you could buy a car that cools the seats

before you get in-- so your

thighs won't stick.

Hell yes, it’s true.

I saw it on T.V.

You wouldn’t have to rush around,

wilted, hold out for the weekend—

& its beer, big gulps, plastic chairs

on the patio, time off in the sun,

ultra violets or no ultra violets--

bake until done.

If you had a lot of money in the bank,

you could hire a cook who would toss

a cool green salad for you or dish up

coconut shrimp anytime you wanted.

You’d laze on your terrace, snack

on onion dip or paté de fois gras with chips.

You wouldn’t pull weeds, mulch,

pick Japanese beetles off your roses,

wonder if you had the right ph in your soil-

your gardener would do that 

and mow the lawn to boot.

If you had a lot of money in the bank,

you could have a place on the beach, or on a lake!

When you felt like a swim, Bob’s your uncle,

there’d you’d be, good to go. In a unisex

pareo you could sip frozen daiquiris.

Any kind your heart desired. Mango for God’s sake!

You’d accessorize, even guys.

Getting dressed might mean getting dressed.

Money will keep you running

whether you’ve got it or not. Funny, that.

Nonnie and Drago Envision

Nonnie and Drago Envision

        

“It’s much too big, of course.” Nonnie said.

Drago carefully chewed his bite of pork loin (he’d  survived throat cancer and always ate mindfully.)

“What’s too big?” Drago asked after he swallowed.

“The United States. The budget. Who understands trillions, really? The 2010 census counted 310,300 million of us. No wonder we don’t agree. The 1790 census counted 3,929,214 for the Founding Fathers and their ilk to deal with.”  

Drago ate some sweet potato, then said, “That 1790 number would probably have excluded women and had some nefarious way to count slaves. No Native Americans, of course.”

“Oh, right, but look, rounding off today’s population to 4 million, give or take, we’d come out with 77 ½ countries.”

“You’re just carrying these figures around in your head?”

“Well, no. They’re in my pocket. I’ve been thinking about this-doing some figuring. I’m fed up with having to share my country with so many fidiots.”

“What were fidiots, again?”

“Fucking idiots, but I know you’d rather we didn’t swear.”

“Doesn’t work for us, dear. Or maybe it’s a ‘what would Mother say?’ thing. So, what do you have in mind, actually?”

“De-uniting. Regrouping. Starting over in re-sorted ballparks.

Like, for instance, there could be a little country we could live in where education, healthcare, and military spending (not much, because we wouldn’t need it because we’d be in a little country) would get sensible support. Still a democracy and all, but billionaires would be frowned upon. Ostracized, even.” Nonnie dipped her last piece of pork into her applesauce. She always finished meals first. “No. Wait. I know. We could still have capitalism, but after an individual’s income reaches say, a couple of million, they’d have to stop accumulating and start giving. Details could be worked out by smart humanitarians and all, but there certainly wouldn’t be any need to put the mentally ill out on the streets, for example. It’d be great!

And, uh, the trickle-down types could live in one of the 77 ½ countries that just love billionaires! See how that works out for them.”

Drago, who was feeding Blossom bits from his plate by now, and who always gave his sister’s ideas a thoughtful hearing, said, “All these places would have to have names. There should probably be a rule that no one could pick ‘The United States of America,’ by the way. Nonnie, there are a lot of details to be ironed out.”

“Names, yeah, those might be tough.”

“Anything good on TV tonight?”

“Oh, you know. Doctors, crime scenes, housewives. Probably some vampires. Want to watch vampires?”