for Jamie Dimon
A vampire sits on top of the vault,
batwings folded neatly down its back,
drowsy, flutter-eyes, head bobbing now.
You wonder how much time you have
until the compliance officer discovers
the fault...like a fault in earth's crust
that is waiting to go, you are waiting
to go, but you have to go slow
so no one will notice what no one
will know when you joggle the mortgage
and boggle the loan, while the couple
from Ghettosville sit, sweat and squirm
in their seats as they wait for the apple
and worm that they think is a plum,
a prize that you sold them for being
so dumb, so hungry to finally belong.
Now they sign and you shake hands
and now they are gone. The hand
sanitizer protects you from their germs.
You feel yourself starting to doze but...
Surprise! as sharp teeth plunge into
your neck and you feel the blood rise
from jugular to gullet, your wide-open
eyes see alien vistas, exquisite and wise.
Dennis reads "Financial I.V.":
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Dennis confesses: "Jamie Dimon is of course the CEO at J.P. Morgan Chase & Co., who should be wearing orange; the poem evokes the subprime mortgage scandal of 2007–08 and subsequent global depression, sadly still with us."