Scott Marks 4:26 p.m., May 21
What is money?
My car. And sex.
Feelings of discomfort and anguish.
Is that all?
Bottlecaps. And maybe thumb-tacks.
All correct, my dear. You are truly wise.
I’m not really a genius or anything.
Let’s not get carried away. I said wise.
I’ll accept that, short of Einstein.
We shall not go there, my friend.
And I thank you for it, sir.
(They kiss. A formality, but with increasing passion.
It is a swap of spit and stock tips. The end. Or thee.)