What else should I spend my poverty on -- since this
kid is my only wealth ?

If I had as much silver as Scrooge McDuck I still
couldn't afford to make myself enough of a fool for him.

Every small secret or dirty word he shares with me
would balance an Aga Khan in diamonds;

every caress he allows -- nape of neck in tassels of
bronzeblond straight hair, ears like the dream-cups of
mermen, thighs in Lycee-grey flannel, inkstained nail-
bitten fingers -- every touch could cause a Wall Street to
crash, a Bourse to tumble

and as for the caresses he bestows, the beast-hugs,
gentle slaps in the face, hand-blown kisses, small hand on
my leg -- the World Bank could not afford enough Galaxion
games, digital watches, Swiss scoutknives, comic books,
neon-garish candy, bicycles & Star Wars artifacts to balance
the economy of my obsession.

His parents accuse him of extortion, but he's the one
who's being cheated of his due, not me;

our mutual investment in innocent filth & erotic mess
& certain chaste intimacies too pungent even for poetry

is beyond the purse of all future zillionaires, galactic
tycoons, zamindars of whole solar systems, lords of a
thousand usurious moons.

Every day more beautiful, my green-eyed rothschild --
& I every day more in debt, the wage-slave of your smiles,
the bankrupt of your naked body disappearing between
Superman sheets, the hopeless bagman of your whispered
goodnights.