A LETTER TO A BANK

dear bank,

i know what you did, and you broke my heart
i hear your clinking heels come by my window at night
i’ve been nickeled and i’ve been dimed
you are 52 fictional stories tall
a full house of cards
and a plastic laugh track plays when we beg for a loan
your wagon has driven off the coast of california
and as it collides with the ocean floor its tremors
turn to earthquakes
birthquakes that tremble dresses of bimbo whores

dearest bank,

you broke my heart
then charged me an overdraft fee
i can’t remember the last time i held a physical dollar
i can’t remember the last time i held your hand
try and understand
i want you back
i do i do i do
when the fridge is crying at midnight
telling me it’s hungry all i’m thinking about is you
oh great cash register building!
wolf in sheep’s clothing
masquerading as guardian angel to my sweet denver
homeless hobos and scummy bums shine your shoos
oh great cash register!
beneath your great ship slaves row – oh ee oh –
to move you along
how could you do this to me?
customer since 2006
platinum debit card
and all the pretty horses on the merry-go-round
under the reigns of your painted wagon
come circle-jerking backaround
and the music plays laa la la dee da
and i am enamored once again
instantaneous forty hour work-week come to fruition
at the click of a button, slide of a card
convenience with a convenience charge
oh great cash register in the sky!
you are squatting without permission in the house of the lord
and denying god a second mortgage

my dearest bank,

the buck stops here
i don’t want my money imaginary anymore
and i understand
that you have overdraft fees
account transfer fees
balance inquiry fees
atm fees at your
automatic teller machine machines
to help teach me about responsibility
ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black
i’m leaving you
loyalty department (talking paradox)
try and stop me

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “MOTIVE”

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

21 thoughts on “A LETTER TO A BANK”

  1. Hello!
    Thanks for dropping by to read my short stories! I loved your poem. I loved that you used a single imaged so beautifully.I started out with poetry bt have abandoned it temorarily for prose, but you’ve made me want to return to it again.

      1. I should have said fiat money, but I guess that doesn’t really count, because we really can’t get away from it. I tend to be a bit of a libertarian kook on this point. Carry on 🙂

  2. If they kept soup, not bucks, in banks
    you could make deposits in the summer
    – maybe borrow beer or lemonade elsewhere –
    then watch your savings grow, and make withdrawals
    in winter when you needed warmth and food.

    The Chairman’s bonus could be
    a bowl of Scotch Broth or a pan of lobscouse.
    Meanwhile some folk might open
    money-kitchens for the homeless.

    M
    __________
    Marie Marshall
    author/poet/editor
    Scotland

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