Golddigger’s Sonnet

I am consumed by fiscal passion

when I gaze upon your wrinkles.

I lust for your high-waisted fashions,

and your enlarged prostate tinkles.

The familiar bulge in your slacks:

a wallet of Visa and Amex Gold.

That compensates for what your body lacks,

and my friends saying you are old.

The age difference means nothing to me,

as I have caught the curse of King Midas.

You have as many years as my father,

and you see the same doctor for arthritis.

I am a golddigger, I am with no shame.

I’m in it for the will, now it’s just a waiting game.

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