And I'm not saying
He wasn't worth every penny
The man worked very hard indeed
Lived alone, ate out
His friends few, colleagues many
He owned an apartment on the river
With city views, a maid
Swimming pool on the top floor
He never had a house warming party
When I suggested it he just
Shrugged and said: What for?
I tried to explain to him the concept
Of living and giving in a society
Which respects your rights
For him the thought of owing anyone
Anything was more than enough
To keep him awake nights
Sharing, for Anthony, meant investing
In shares, stocks, bonds,
And annuities
He didn't believe in enlightened capitalism
Social responsibility
Or ad hoc gratuities
To him money well earned was to be well spent
Namely on those few things
Capable of providing pleasure
And yet Anthony was a man of few passions
He was not the sporting type
And had little use for leisure
Didn't windsurf, collect stamps, bird watch
Bush walk, snowboard, drink beer
Play darts or dive
He stayed in lit by his laptop screen
Browsing and ordering online - a man
Totally without social drive
His furniture was someone else's idea of chic
His hair someone's idea of cool
His wine club told him what to drink
Like Einstein he tended to wear the same clothes
Every day in the belief relief from mundane
Choices left more time to think
It was when I suggested some art for his walls
That Anthony's plight was for me
Cast in a whole new light
I took him to various galleries in a day
Some cooler some safer than others
But all with art on site
He said at the end if he wanted to invest
It had to be something
No one had ever seen before
So I took him to see a conceptual artist
Whose name was Livingston Crapp
Who had been a transsexual whore
Crapp's work was indeed outrageous
Especially the "Dead Bird" where
She walked around in a white room
Dressed in nothing but stockings
High heels, an Alpine Climbing Cap
Holding the spool from a weavers loom
Anthony said: I'll buy that - and that was that
Nobody could argue with his money
He wanted the show, he wanted it all
I tried to explain to exulted Anthony that
Crapp's work was highly ephemeral
Not something to hang on your wall
He said: Fuck it, I'll buy this überbitch
And watch her gradually depreciate
While I look ultra cool
And he dedicated a room in his apartment
To Livingston Crapp's "Dead Bird" -
The ultimate folly of a fool
© shaun patrick green 2013
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