if any-any
thoughts were pennies,
you bet I’d think a lot,
& Sparkletts jars,
would board this bard,
just on second thoughts.
If nickels wooden,
truly stood in,
for dough when I am duped,
I’d lose my cool–
to play the fool
and trade those chips for loot.
If dropping dimes,
amassed in time,
I’d gladly be the fodder
with secrets told,
I’d roll like gold–
those dimes until they’re dollars.
Yes, at all costs,
I’d balance books,
and turn clichés around…
with bottom dollar,
& prudence proper,
& pennies for a pound.
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