A POEM - THE POOR BASTARD HAD MONEY

THE POOR BASTARD HAD MONEY
He was walking by with a girl,
Just outright begging her for it.
“please!” he said, “please!
Come home with me, please!”
The girl kept on walking
And finally he grabbed her hand
And shouted, “please, come on!
And money’s not an issue!
I have plenty of money!”
She turned and looked at him, disgusted,
And then went on her way.
I was sitting on a dirty curb,
Drinking piss beer and chuckling,
watching the scene play out.
“man,” I thought, shaking my head.
“what a life that must be!
‘money not an issue.’ Aw, man,
What I’d do if money wasn’t an issue.”
The guy watched her walk for a few moments,
Thinking maybe she’d turn around.
I took another swig of beer and smiled,
Thinking, “and still the bastard can’t get laid.”
When she didn’t turn around,
And just kept on going down the dark street,
he wrung his hands up at the dark sky and yelled,
“arrggghhh!! What the fuck?!”