We all  owe a debt of gratitude for this here.
In our mid-nights  we  fly away from bondage
Crying in throats, hoarse with age and love.
Money binds us, men to men, in our women.
Women bind us in our men and in our doing.

Our debt is a trap, a  night happening thing
That leaves us befuddled, in body and state.
Debt makes us feel creepy in sleeping beds
Like a  thousand-legged worm of  leg things.
It makes our women cry  leaving doors ajar, 
As  doors  will shut for the last time of night.

Debt is mere words of  men in vacant houses.
Their hollow laughter sounds creepy by night.
Debt  is letters that crawl like wiggly worms
From brittle paper, that is fast  turning to dust.


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