eddie

by Ben Rasnic

once crawled
thru a second story
classroom window
onto the lower
rooftop platform to retrieve
three pennies on a dare
and we being the pricks
that we were
locked him out
until the teacher
came into the room.
it was our way
of embarrassing him
for his miserly
materialistic creed.

a few years later
while we were getting high
everyday and writing poems,
eddie
would be out
checking his vending machines
and rental properties.
“same old eddie,” we would laugh,
“worshipping the almighty dollar.
he doesn’t have a clue
about what’s really important.”

now that we are in our fifties,
eddie
owns a custom built home
perched on a panoramic mountain ridge
overlooking a watercolor canvas
of dense trees and rolling hills
with a redwood deck
facing the western horizon
& I, I own a modest
yet overpriced home
in a sprawling mid-
atlantic suburb, embroiled
in the daily chaos
that is beltway traffic &
borrowing from my 401K
to pay off credit card debts
but I still have my pride
and poems
in my pockets
and eddie still
doesn’t get it.

I guess some people
just never learn.