Insert Coin

With every quarter in the slot

The sunset riders rode again,

Felled the evil rancher from his perch

Who grumbled out his dying wish:

Bury me with my money.

The pusher’s broom swayed back and forth

And coins upon the dancers’ hips

Made that chinkle chankle sound.

We tossed our tokens for a ride,

Let them roll on funnel’s rim

Or traded them for thoughts,

Took our chances on a toss.

We stacked our towers and our cups

And watched them dwindle day by day.

In search of golden veins

We dug our needles in the ground

But Hades in his underworld

Would not redeem

What we returned.

Reviews

[Ken e Bujold]

A very enjoyable read here Casey. Love the well-considered see-saw of youth's vim with the wizened edge of time's inevitable ending point. A true carnival of thoughts on and around an ancient theme.

ken