The Money Tree

One last innocent trek up

The untracked Shoshone,

The way now festooned in garish

Adolescent neon tones of

Fluttering pink and green,

Beckoning like pheromones the

Sweating, feverish, assault

Of picks and shovels

And the paying paparazzi.

For at trek's end,

Yet graced with the purity

Of new-fallen snow,

An icon for these branded times,

The cosmically unintended and unwitting

Multi-millennial rock star to be,

The Money Tree.

 

 

Done