The Cost of Living
After they have taken
everything you still have
a stray, unowned patch of sunlight
finding its way in and spending
a little of its time keeping
you company, playing around
your feet.
The things they discarded
on their way out have already
broken into bloom
and even the empty spaces
have become polished pools
waiting for the moon to bathe
its image in tonight.
But don't get too smug.
Tomorrow they'll be back
with a bill for services
rendered by the sun and moon.
Then, just when you think
that will be the last transaction,
they will issue you a bill
for each thought you have,
calculated on gestation time
and its estimated weight.
There will be no escape
other than to become a ghost
incapable of thought,
twitching inside one of their
computers, lost forever
between one and nought.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2023
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