For Convenience

Like a 

poor man’s 

Midas...

We turned

the elastic,

into plastic.

It all began,

with dwelling

on the nylons

and spandex

that snap

at the shoulder,

and soon

slap us

square across

the broad 

side of the ass.

How we detest

the answering 

back...

the actual having

to talk, to work, 

and figure,

something

or someone

...out.

We like our

credit and face,

left in tact...

bruises on the soul

and ego don’t 

really show...

we can put up

with that, that

indignant 

blow.

Alone

....with 

the phantom 

comfort of 

a shadow

and those

anonymous

banks....

that we carry

with our

wallets...

in the event 

that...