Greetings from the Hill
82/90 SE5/10 0705/1951 75%H
A lovely sunday morning, garden irrigating,
cats fed, floors swept, dishes done...
a cup of tea on the porch with 'Solares Hill'
the brain fermenting amid confusion.
A week of studying the impending doom,
the down in the trenches with the tranches,
the world of 'Financial Products', euphemisms
and capital letters for ' hot fucking air', the
madone groans about Erdman's curse,
the absurdity of Cornfield's hypothicatings,
packaged for low forehead CFO's running
pension funds that will soon evaporate.
The ABCP that bred the SIV's for the CDO's
the bundlers and bumblers that took too much
from the single family home dream scheme,
Bush and Greenspan, HUD and FANNY MAE,
one percent juice from the Fed, make the
elephants fart and bark, of course, of course,
it was those damn immigrants wanting the
'american dream', home and family with
a picket fence and a dog named Spot.
"Yeah and now look at this sorry mess,"
smiles the madone, "The Two Daves in
Turtle Shit Cay, hofuckingho and their
On the Hill the property tax might be bill
arrived, market assessment at a million $US,
a bit of a thrill when taxes are reduced by
eight percent and love that CAP.....
"Have a morning beer on Bill,"
listening to the classics from Havana, ignoring
the swarming mosquitoes, enjoying the
company of Tiger...prince of the Hill.
Life on the Rock until you drop, and now
a treat from the Beat country songwriter.
If I was an ARRP carp.
Too late to be great
Too old to be bold
Not artistic enough
to be sarcastic
Not dumb enough
to act young
Old and unschooled
and never tooled.
An ARRP and a carp
in a drainage ditch
no fancy fish
in a bowl.
Maybe a swimming pool
in a tropical garden
on Love Lane
a harem of Coy
patches of Bok Choy
A Chink in whitegay paradise
just a fishtail
and an exotic tale.
A humid breeze in the Keys, these Isles
of The Eternal Sun.