Thursday, September 25, 2008

Invoices

If only I was writing with news from the bank
So you could call me with effusive thanks
As your balance shot skywards safe in the black
You could move into a mansion from your suburban shack
Alas, I send this asking for cash
For the copy I wrote for you in a flash
If I sat at your corner with a sad cardboard sign
I hope you'd throw me buck for this little rhyme

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