AND NOW THAT I'VE
GOT A BUNDLE
I'm as rich as I ever thought I'd be.
More, actually. Sitting around this
campfire gulch just thinking of where
I've been : A dumb, poor kid from
nowhere, having to grow up, adolescent,
among the rich and the powerful. Those
with all the connections and manners. The
dining in Spring Lake and Rhode Island.
The cars, with their fine sisters inside, as
beautiful as a boxer's fist forever clenched.
I wasn't faking, because I couldn't fake
it, just had to learn real fast. Monogrammed
cloth napkins while sitting down to dine
at a long refectory table. Discipline.
Monkey-games. Money. I've got
one million put aside, but that's
just it. For the rest of my days.
And not just me, mind you.
People think I'm full of shit. Maybe they're
right, and I wouldn't know. All I can do is attest
to myself. Really though, you can't assent to
a fabrication. Because you just wind up
forgetting which parts you made up.
'The truth will out,' as the saying goes,
so that's all I ever tell.