EDWARD THE TELLER

Edward the Teller leans on his rubber cage, says,
“Sorry, there’s a run on the Cosmos Bank;
your pop-top deposits are non-returnable,
all your checks are blow-dried ‘void.’

Regrettably, the Milky Way is caving in,
the orbits of space-junk-food decay.
Sugar-babies are flushing the issue,
our perfumed tissue, into a pin-point.

The center will unfortunately hold. You see,
Big Money’s inside, sucking out the light,
sucking out the light.”