I’ve rubber-necked
5th Avenue fashion-botiques
where I couldn’t afford a hanger.

I visited homes in The Hamptons
where I couldn’t buy a brick.

I’ve eaten in Soho restaurants
where I couldn’t scrape-up
a cheap tip.
(Dad picked up the check)

I’ve test-driven sleek-sports-cars
on the streets of Beverly Hills
when I couldn’t pay for even that
new-car-smell.

What the heck?

We own a four poster bed.
Nancy and I sleep there,
where the lazy-luxury of a late-morning-linger
more than matches cheaper-riches.

Sure,
I know there are
“The Trappings of Wealth”.
But then,
there is
Nancys kiss.