new money

the inheritance ruined them.
she made sandwiches
and he pumped gas
for a living.
you'd see them at the dog
park,
your dogs would play
together.
but the money, oh the money.
fifty million
changed everything.
soon it was a new house.
new cars.
a maid,
a person for the yard.
three children from
three continents were
adopted and taken to Disney
world.
what couldn't be bought?
she was suddenly
surgically slender.
he got a hair cut. his teeth
fixed.
new clothes, new shoes.
you hardly recognized them
anymore.
they forgot your name,
they had new
friends with other names.
oh, hello, she said on the street.
almost stopping
to talk,
but pressing forward
to the car
where someone held the door
for her.
in the window the dog
barked,
it was wearing a scarf
with a collar of Christmas
lights
around it's coiffed
neck. it look at you,
happily barking and wagging
his tail
he remembered.