Money Dance

In this current climate

You’re like a fine painting on a wall, I never touch you, yet I gaze at you longingly

And get lost in the translation of you


Even though I don’t own you , I own in my head how I interpret you.



Even though I can’t afford you, I have already mapped out where I would put you in my house.



Even though you’re a masterpiece, I can still see how I could improve you

and the list goes on


But after the museum is closed I still sit in the car park and make space in my boot, always wondering about how I know what life is like without you, but imagine a life where you are there in my boot…




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