Dough. I needed dough that day.
Ray would loan it for a price.
Me? I took the loan. “Oy vey—”
father said, “such bad advice!”
Soul? I sold mine on that day,
lamenting the price I’d pay.
Teams of hitmen bat away
’til I pay them back their dough!

Ken Gosse prefers writing short, rhyming, humorous poetry. First published in First Literary Review–East in November 2016, he is also in The Offbeat, Pure Slush, Parody, Home Planet News Online, and other publications. Raised in the Chicago suburbs, now retired, he and his wife have lived with their dogs and cats in Mesa, AZ, over twenty years.