Millionaire

I heard him say it

dozens of times,

but the first time I said it

I laughed out loud.

Dad never had 

two extra nickels to rub together—

my parents the king and queen of getting by—

and, get by they did—

money not nearly as important 

as a house full of family.

He was a soft touch—

never able to say no to a friend.

I often wonder how he’d fare today

when money is god and we worship

those who have gobs and gobs of it,

like we worshipped the gods

of mayhem on Mt. Olympus.

Perhaps they’d think him a fool—

that small-statured man 

who wouldn’t say no—

who’d find a way to help

from a well worn-wallet—

certain to tell you 

that he’d be the “same millionaire

with or without it.”

Up in December on Street Light Magazine. I didn’t know until yesterday.

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