would not, could not
participate in, yet
my lucky number found
its own sweet way
into the pot of gold.
Eighthundredfifty
thousand Euro STERLING,
no doubt another new,
perhaps exciting
currency has raised
its interest head
while I was busy
writing poetry of rhyme.
Would anyone
in need of money
become my agent,
fetch the dough
for me and send
just fifty Eorocent
in every Sterling
to me, who lounges
now, in my recliner,
(inflatable, of course)
at Woorim Beach.
Potato Vodka
by my side
and dreaming
of conversion rates.

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