But already
My substance
Is melting
And trickling down
The highway
West,
Sniffing
Like money
On the trail of a Swiss bank,
A proper place
For quiet accumulation
While my resources ripen
Until the time is right.
Then they'll find
My exoskeleton, an empty
Skin of Lycra Spandex,
Along with dust and dog hair
Upon the kitchen floor.
(c)Anne Meek 2009
published in The Poet's Domain, Vol 25
Live Wire Press, Charlottesville, VA
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