break dimes over heads
made from nickel
that is mimicking tungsten
that is mimicking gold
that runs and rules
world economies with brevity;
as creatures of millennial elements decompose
and make way for grander things
grander schemes
blistering through smog made of unknown emulsifiers coagulating at the brink of destruction
meets mayhem, emboldened by blank checks cashed in shady areas around every corner
for untold sums amounting to paper trails leading a way, trip trop paddy wagons clops,
of fortunes written in sand and peril, then smoked through crack pipes to that pay dividends twice-fold,
and then triple, as the man mans the manifolds of civilization meets tarnation until exasperation takes hold
and someone is holding the bag filled with shiny shy rocks shaped to mimic gold
Fred Aiken Writing 