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A money massage

If you had plans for me what would you have

Me be? Shall I be exciting with prospects of

Astonishing proportion, shall I be on the cusp

Of a family fortune, or how about, just about,

To make a killing on the stock market; but what

If I were a poor man what then, would you spurn

Me, and cast me into the midden?


Destitute lovers not required on board. Poor men

Need not apply for a place in your bed. But again,

What if I didn't fancy you? A cat can look at a queen

Without sipping her milk. All I had in mind was to love

A girl who loved me for who I am, faults and all. I am

Not perfect, far from it, but I am a trier, who thus far

Tried and failed, and at present have nothing at all to

Recommend me save my honesty and my love for you.


Tomorrow is another day, chocker block, nay, full to

The brim with new opportunity. Opportunity to search

For and to find those rivers of rivers so idolised by

The banks, lush incoming streams copious of cash,

Gushing of pounds, Euro’s and divers denominations

From around the world, more than sufficient to sweep

Me to fortune and you into my arms. For yes, I know

The value of wealth and I am not ashamed to admit it.


Just think of it. Sleeping beside a man drenched in the

Rich heady perfume of the Dollar bill. Your breasts fresh

With the flower bomb of your lovers favourite topic Money,

Counted every night before it slips down a chute into the

Night safe. Gone, but not forgotten, the smell of money

Lingers long into the night, and after a nightcap or two, the

Smell of money makes its way to the bedroom, where your

Lover takes you in his arms and treats you to the aftermath

Of a day's hard work, a money massage, rubbed all over,

Tweaked and twiddeld by the self same hands that brought

Todays fresh swealth into being, how relaxing, how stimulating,

How restorative. Now I wonder how many g
irls of your

Acquaintancecan say that?


© Joseph G Dawson