True Story (Poem-A-Day 5)

Cash MoneyFor today’s prompt, write a discovery poem. The narrator could discover an object, a person, an animal, a dishonorable deed, or any number of things. Poets can focus on the discovery, examine the aftermath, or even just mention it in passing.

 

This is a true story. At least as true as any of my poetry.

On an early spring walk, amongst leaves swept along new grass by the bluster, one caught my eye, too regular, rectangular, even. A “001” printed upon its surface, I stomped down to stop its wind driven journey. Expecting to pull Monopoly money from under my shoe, I was greeted by Ben Franklin.

The first new $100 bill I’d seen, crisp as an autumn leaf, I snuck furtive glances. Was I being video taped for some prank or might more Benjamins be blowing around? I even took it to the bank, assuming counterfeit which they accepted as legal tender.

Though fungible, I consider my good fortune shared with strippers.

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About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker was born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough, North Carolina where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.
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