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Money worries over, my pen writes,

when I win the one hundred nineteen

million dollars a number fixed in my brain

that will mean my money worries are over

a party thrown in the house soon

to be fixed up better than new

no way anymore for the rain to creep in

and drip drip drip in yet another new place

the grey cloud of unease replaced

by the cozy knowing that I and we

are warm and dry inside our sturdy home

unassailed by torrents or only sprinkles

of rain that fall and isn’t it funny

how a person contemplating a windfall of

one hundred nineteen million dollars

thinks firstly and lastly of something like

a roof that no longer leaks not

a convertible car

transAtlantic cruise

second home in the south of France

but only the luxurious thing of staying

cozy and dry while looking out the

windows at a romantic thunderstorm?

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