Monday's Checkbook

Weekend trails
lead to steps
through minefields,
shrapnel festers in wounds
hidden underneath
suite of armor
made from credit cards.

Immortality dwells
within the heaven of receipts,
nirvana, the luster
of artificially inseminated
omnipotence.

Sunday's sunset
brings voice of toll keeper
doing imitation of calculator.

Face of night
comes as chalkboard
fingernails drag down its surface
from all the grasps
at ambrosia's appetizers.

Monday's checkbook
always opens by itself,
balance never what imagined,
because of unexpected changes
in banking fees.