he puts them down
as he counts them
his gold nuggets like
leaves on the ground
the pomegranate tree
but after ten full
bushel’s worth he
loses count falls
asleep dreams
of a little cottage
on the coast
a quick lunch
with Ovid
a long walk
along the shore
with Blake
before he’s called
naked before the vast
audience of stars
to sing his heart out
as if he was at the Met
as if his great wealth
had bought him a voice
as if all those stars
had given him a choice
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