Hat in Hand
I hear you’ve fallen on hard times;
that you can’t rub two dimes together
to heat your apartment,
that your supper consists of
only enough food to fill your plate one time,
and that you’re leaving cars perpetually parked
because you can’t afford to drive
at five dollars a mile.
As healthy as the rise in gas prices
may be for your waistline,
the grapevine tells me you’re crying out
for a savior who can control
a pocket-watch economy
falling steadily down the rabbit hole.
It sounds to me
like you need to boost the bear market
with a fairy tale bailout.
Luckily, the secret’s out
that my fingers are dexterous
at unknotting bankrupt challenges,
and I’m offering to salvage your money issue
with little to no strings attached.
They call me Rumpelstiltskin and
I will happily spin your garbage into gold
in exchange for your children’s future.
All you have to do is inscribe
your signature on the dotted line,
and you will wake up in four years
to a brave new world.
Don’t listen to him. I’m the one with a solution.
While ‘Stiltskin is busy pulling
the wool/straw/fool’s gold over your eyes,
I’m magically ambitious.
I can provide real treasure
on the other side of the rainbow.
I’m not just charming though;
while the “C.E.O of the Name Game” was dancing
around the flames of fallen spinning wheels,
I killed the Wicked Witch of the Middle East.
The record speaks for itself;
let me lead, and I promise more than
lucky breakfast cereal and green beer
that makes you feel like you’re drinking
the tears of four-leaf clovers.
I promise a pot of gold.
In exchange for your vote,
I’ll grant you three wishes;
Hope and Change…
and there’s a third one somewhere,
but it’s on a high shelf
and I can’t reach it.
Maybe two wishes.
Maybe just Hope.