drunk money

[marichriaddi]

I am the drunk money that has been found
in the backseat
Left there for hours, days, maybe weeks.
No one knows where the money came from
No one knows who's money it could be
The wadded up bills
facing different directions
upside down, crumpled carelessly
by the drunk who sat in the backseat last week
too drunk to eat
too drunk to speak
Throwing money at people's feet
buying drinks for everyone at 4 Star Bar last week
I am the drunk money
passed out for an eternity
dropping out of pants pockets
by drunk fingers fumbling
for more money to buy more drinks
Too stupid to care
that percap checks don't come every week
spending money on beer and weed
like the money grows on trees
I wake up in the morning
and wonder where I am as
I am the drunk money I search for in
now empty pockets,
Hung over, crumpled carelessly...
I am the drunk money found in the backseat

[robby]

$

money has no home, formerly used as decoration on native clothing

[Zeke]

Back in the day, because there was always a need for a dollar bill, I'd individually safety pin $$$ to the underside of my beadwork bandoliers.

I bet there's still three or four dollars there, folded in the suitcase, waiting for a giveaway or to drop at someone's feet.

I don't dance much anymore, perhaps twice in five years. I don't often miss it, it's not who I am.

But, every once in a while, I think of something -- a memory, a smell, a person -- and it gives me a melancholy smile.

The poem "Drunk Money" did so. I have no idea why. Normally, the entire literary concept would seem...distasteful...

[Jadenia]

hello

Nice poem very interesting.:

[Cyndith]

Poem

Back in the day, because there was always a need for a dollar bill, I'd individually safety pin $$$ to the underside of my beadwork bandoliers.

I bet there's still three or four dollars there, folded in the suitcase, waiting for a giveaway or to drop at someone's feet.

I don't dance much anymore, perhaps twice in five years. I don't often miss it, it's not who I am.

But, every once in a while, I think of something -- a memory, a smell, a person -- and it gives me a melancholy smile.

The poem "Drunk Money" did so. I have no idea why. Normally, the entire literary concept would seem...distasteful...

Your response reads like prose to me. The words contained in Drunk Money and your reply oddly evoke warm feelings. I think, for me, it is because it was attached to people I loved so dearly, no matter what.

[Chevy_truckin_NDN]

dang i thought it said drunk monkey...