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Mute and the Finger Bill
| Open Poetry #38 |
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Mute and the Finger Bill |
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Edward Grim Senior Member
since 2005-12-18
Posts 1154Greenville, South Carolina 
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Mute and the Finger Bill The market place. Since its commencement its commerce had been down. Money, found to be all too useless for it didn’t exist anymore; and traders squandered their pay on non-diseased hired company. It was a sand floor plan, shirts and shoes desired but not required. There were strict rules against the career of thrifty fingers. Purloiners couldn’t get away or play the piano after being caught. A thief lost a digit per stolen item, ten items or fewer. The infamous Finger Bill. But pilferers weren’t important, the dry-tongued ones were though. Starving and thirsty peasants without currency. Merchants wanted money, no buyers. Peasants wanted food, no sellers. Deadly cycle. The little boy, called the Mute, was particularly loud with his stomach snarling and sneering. He could only think of his hungry family, and could only remember the Finger Bill. Mute walked to the town square, more like a circle but nonetheless a square. He played his harp (with only four strings left) for the last time. He played Smoke on the Water, appropriate. Then to the merchant… Mute looked at the bearded fat man with record player eyes playing the saddest music ears could conceive. Mute held up his hands. His family ate that night. Bread, water, apples, and the best Kokoro ever. It was finger licking good, well, not for Mute. Subtotal was nine out ten. I'm not smart, I'm just a tricky dumb person. |
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| © Copyright 2006 Edward Grant - All Rights Reserved | |||
Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
dang, you did it again left me speechless though not fingerless |
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