The Poem
Giggle for our 401(k)s, shall we?
For funds we only ever see online?
For pacts we make with banks’ AI’s IT?
Our fate to fiscal fairy tales resign?
We’ll live along the way; that’s our Gen’s line.
We’ll rent. Buy now. Pay later. That’s our ark!
Why save for rainy days? From your cloud nine
our hurricane was born, dear Patriarch!
We’ll live along the way by sailing light through dark.
Notes
Reactions to this poem are welcome in the comments section below.
The featured image is cropped from a larger image of early United States currency available in the New York Public Library’s digital collections. I had the phrase “not worth a Continental” running through my head as I searched for it. Much gratitude for whichever public school teacher introduced me to that saying many years ago.
Lastly, this poem is a Spenserian stanza, one of my favorite forms. Have a safe and worthwhile New Year, readers!
Wheat & Tares 
I work in a data science related job at a biotech company and sometimes I roll around the terms “machine learning” in my brain. This poem reminded me of that. There is something our computer driven world that my Hunter gatherer brain hasn’t quite gotten used to like it wants to be able to hold the things on my hands that only reside in the cloud database somewhere