Bank Job (Poem)

Do I do that thing you like?

Put your money where your mouth is--

take the love,

but I'll tender no change,

and keep a tip.

So go ahead,

Big Spender,

knock on the glass,

push a button,

pick a pepper,

raid the garden,

make your selection.

An expensive type of infection,

but the bank is bankrupt,

so pay up front.

We're all corrupt.

Shh, darling,

don't interrupt.

You're part and parcel,

and financier.

I'll love you long time.

Hips curve like sly smiles.

So sincere,

as I whisper some big cock compliment,

and you still think I'm innocent,

when i suck your soul out through your dick,

but you throw those bills like the bank got built.

Funny,

you never see my magic trick--

That feel you're financing is counterfeit.

bvk, 2020.