wallet stove magnifying glass

twenty dollars can buy you 
enough lenses to see the smallest city.
crouching down as low as possilbe,
we are looking here for my lost frying pan.
the future is full of legs. i cross mine.
you spit in the skillet & pay me like i am 
your company for the night. i'll be good. i promise.
two quarters on my tongue. the heat is brutal
& fatherly. we make our beds in the oven & 
i inspect for bugs. nothing but a little detective.
he scours for clues to why we are still so lonely. 
soon enough he bursts into flames. we play in ashes.