not funny

my financial wizard,
amy, who sounds twelve
on the phone, calls with
some suggestions.
some possible sell
offs and new buys. she's
carrying the weight of
my fragile financial
future in the palms
of her youthful pink
hands. she rambles
on about carrying
over last year's losses
and realizing them
towards the gains
'we' made in apple this
year. i try not to doze
off. i always tell her sure.
go for it amy, do it, and
then end the conversation
by saying, please, when
i'm old leave some money
for me, i don't want
to be living in a card
board box out behind
the liquor store in
the woods. she laughs
and laughs at this,
and i can hear her spitting
coffee onto her laptop
while her fingers click
rapidly along the keyboard.
oh stop, she says in
her squeaky voice, you
are so funny. but i don't
think it's funny at all.