He was no Einstien

He was no Einstien

But he had made a fortune in Bitcoin

Pulled out before the truth of it

Hit the headlines

His cash was well hidden

In offshore accounts.

These days he invested in startups

And sold them on

Before they ran out of juice.

It was all he could do

Not to proclaim himself

The King of cool

With his swimming pool

In the backyard

A wide balcony out front

Overlooking the street

A long high table

With tall chairs to sit around

With his friends

Engaging in tales of

Brave misogyny.

A touch of class

Passing gas

Looking down his nose

At strangers on foot

Walking dogs

He truly believed that they

All looked up at him.

He sank another cool one

Turning his baseball cap around

To keep the sun off his neck

Peeking down at the woman

Next door

Lying on her deck

He thought she was interested.

Why wouldn’t she be?

He was certain that there was

Always somebody

Willing to win the prize for stupidity

Driving an open top jeep

In camouflage colours

On a busy street

With a dog sitting in the front seat

Untethered.

Electric skateboarders

What was that all about?

Middle-aged men in lycra

Riding bikes

Boys with long beards

Tied with a bow

Pajeros with caravans on tow

Tradesmen with bum cracks on show

The Kardashians,

Were they a real thing?

Nobody ever accused him

Of understanding irony

But he did buy a succulent for the table.

They were hardy

And low maintenance

Which is how he thought of himself

A couple of singlets

Board shorts

And flipflops were all the clothes he needed

To get by

It said something about him

Laid back so far

He rarely took a step forward.

One day he would stop

To consider his options

But not today

It was cool

To be lazy

It was all the others who were crazy

And it was too damned hot

To look at tomorrow

When today was something

To see.