Price Tag
There is a smell
to new money.
Kids who grew up with want
get up last at dinnertime.
Later, they learn to flaunt.
New money smells of price tags
and the fear it will go cold
again.
Tell me, did you smell it on me?
Before you saw your hand
feed me full
and promise to love me old.
And the need for more stays close.
I want to be your last
becomes: Why not your first?
More remain unasked. And -
If new money has a smell,
looking up to someone
forces them to look down.
I need to learn to respect myself,
and you said,
we both do.