poem

 Courage is a Dead CurrencyIn this country courage is a dead currencyNo longer a legal tenderAccepted in any reputable storesIts coins and banknotes are counterfeit Try slipping a Canadian quarter In the vending machineAnd nothing happens. No guttural rumbleNo churning of inner gearsNothing falls. The slot remains emptyNo matter how hard you pound the red fa çadeThere ’s nothing we can do to stop itSo many of us have exhausted ourselvesSuffering the years to accumulateNow worthless little mounds of green billsLittle nest eggs to draw onWhen the time came to be brave Some hold on to it, hoping it comes back into fashionOr accrues an inexplicable nostalgic valueIn the new mediums of exchange Like a mint condition Honus Wagner card Probably best to just burn itOr get what you can for itPennies on the dollarThe wealthiest of us are all cowardsHave cornered the market On the only kind of currency that countsIf they want a little courageJust to round off a collectionThey can always go buy someLike a forgotten Impressionist pieceFrom a high end galleryHang it on a white wall in a long dining roomFor everyone to see.  A man with the yellowest streakWill attest to its authenticityIt gains value by the hourJust hanging there, doing nothing at allI see a landscape by the great PissarroFor them, a mere object wielded by powerBankrupted fools we are, it endures As a work of priceless wonder 2/19/23

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - February 19, 2023 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs