The Accounts

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Baby,
you may know about the Devil
who sits upon my shoulder
and the Angel
on my other
But let me tell you about
the Accountant who sits
behind his mahogany desk
perched atop my skull

The Accountant
tallies every impulse
weighs each cost
present and future
against all risks
to self, to others
to hell and back

Friends,
his registry of debits
spills endlessly over my shoulders
in white ticker tape curls
Friends,
his registry of debits
spills endlessly over my shoulders
in white ticker tape curls
his calculator ceaselessly clacking out
the whisperings
                            of my devils,
the susurrations
                            of my angels
For all claims
must be submitted:

     Witty comebacks

             Stolen kisses

  Daredevil bets

                    Taboo questions

Nothing!
gets by the Accountant
measuring time
with an infinite tape
that slips as easily
though his fingers
as opportunity

Yes, the Accountant knows
the cost of everything
having never stolen or given
anything…

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