collect your things

sarah painted me a picture of time
her canvas was literally miles long
i asked her, begged her really, to
only use the highest quality paint
imported straight from italy and
never touched by metal or any
other disgusting machinery

of course i paid for the paint and
canvas, and then i paid for her
time. i paid myself to pose in
front of her on a golden box that
i bought before gold was precious.
i made gold precious that day,
when sarah painted me, by begging
sarah to paint a tiny, white and
yellow gleam on the right corner
of the golden box. people who
care about gleams also care about
money and they bought my gold.
it was easier than i had expected.

i also had sarah paint a gleam
on the edge of my forehead
on the left side, unfortunately.
i should have chosen the right
because i did not become any
more precious than i was before.
instead i became an icon that
no one could touch or love.
it hurt more than i expected.

i had the painting, the gold,
myself, the gleam, and more
if you count my sudden wealth
of neglect, rejection, and self-
disgust.

i sold the painting for seven million pounds.
i sold the gold for eleven pounds.
i sold the gleam for twenty pounds.
i sold the neglect for twelve touches.
i sold the rejection for an afternoon date.
i sold the self-disgust for a dollar.

and i sold myself for your time.