‘i might be rich, but it isn’t like i suddenly forgot eleventh grade.’

if i were a wealthy eskimo

iñupiat, to be exact

who fell into new money

when my lucky numbers matched,

i’d throw a wild party.

i would have my ice imported

from richmond, via train

and my salmon shipped from sweden

fished from landlocked lake vänern.

i would wear london’s finest furs

tailored by mayfair, sent through air

and my shoes the softest leather

cobbled in buenos aires.

i would buy a yellow rolls

 and refer to others as ‘old sport’

because even new wealthy iñupiat

can be be fans of classic american literature.

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