Elon over and his team
of brainiacs
to go through
my finances.
my wife, or rather ex-wife
was spending money
like a drunken
sailor
on liberty,
before the account hit
zero.
the team gathers around
the table
with my bank statements,
my tax
returns for the last
five years,
and a box of receipts,
a box that once held
a pair of Jimmy Choo heels.
painfully,
line by line
they show me where
the waste
has been,
massages
by someone named Carlos,
Norstrom Shoes,
clothes, make up,
creams and lotions,
hair and nail appointments,
sauna treatments,
yoga,
daily trips to Starbucks
and
Whole Foods.
Tiffany's.
dent repairs in the car,
flat tires,
broken headlights,
parking and speeding tickets,
and finally,
a monthly subscription
for ten gallons of home delivered
box wine from
California.
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