by Scott Scherr

Created on: November 06, 2011   Last Updated: November 07, 2011

Reserved among the doldrums,
Waits an empty chair- my share.
While the socialites unite,
I’m the least of all their cares.

They speak and splurge to spite me,
For my rent was due last week.
Those monkeys swing on money trees,
My cheap beer’s tasting bleak.

I can’t afford one hateful glance,
Down here, my gaze falls short.
My crazy thoughts begin to dance-
It’s the twenty’s fault, of course.

I flip the crisp bill, one last time,
Red ink details its purpose:
“Shoot between their dollar signs,
I’ll make your efforts worth it.”

A target’s placed on Andrew’s head
Beneath, “Each one’s worth twenty.”
I’ll profit much to make them dead,
The bar is full- that’s plenty!

My shadow hides my perverse zeal,
There’s no time left for stalling.
With gun in hand to seal the deal,
I hear those twenties calling.

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