THE, UM, EROS OF "TRADING WALL STREET"

I'm punchy from all the things on my huge To-Do List which I'm trying to, uh, do....during a break of skimming the news, ended up writing this for my new Trading Wall Street series:

POST-COITAL


Light                   sweet                   crude

peaked

                                    then fell







to settle at $44.51 a barrel on the New York Mercantile Exchange.

It was Paris. But in Texas.

While a banker some decade ago doing some due diligence on some power plant, or was it a mining project?, I once got lost in the night-dark country roads of Paris, Texas...as for that puw-em, I know, I know: I'm being frivolous...but, hey, it was spawned by yesterday's Associated Press report that "Light, sweet crude for January delivery peaked briefly above $50 early Monday, but then fell $1.77 from Friday's level to settle at $44.51 a barrel on the New York Mercantile Exchange."

It could get worse, here's another yackety-yack for Trading Wall Street that I stumbled across my messy e-desk and reconfigured. Before the market crashed, big-shot traders and other financial heavyweights were known as "Big, Swinging D_cks" and I ain't sayin' ducks, ye duckies. So:

WHEN BIG SWINGING DICKS SPEAK,

COCK
                  O
                                    PHONY!

Actually, I should retitle the above “BERNIE MADOFF”.

I know, I'm still being frivolous. But, hey, it's a visual poem (see how that male organ limps with the judicious use of the caesura?). And it's a sound poem! And it's even got "meaning"!

I'm punchy. I hope to release Galatea Resurrects soon. I need to sleep. Otherwise, the results will be an extended poetic discourse on the male organ...