If I had enough money,
I wouldn't worry
about spending a bus ticket
to go to the dentist
to get my teeth fixed
so I could smile again.
If I had enough money
to get my teeth fixed,
I might choose
to take a course
in plumbing or art history
instead
because that would make me smile too
and give me something to think about at night
besides how to magically stretch
dollars I don't have.
If I had enough money,
I might take up baking
or buy second hand clothes
or shop the two-for-one specials
because that would save me money
that I could stretch
to cover the holes in my life,
where my education
and my safe place to live ought to be.
Money can’t buy happiness, they say.
But as for me I'd be glad of an income
That allows me to have a roof tonight,
food tomorrow, and the same the day after that.
I like to know what to expect,
especially when it's not hunger, or homelessness.
Sometimes a toonie buys me happiness, when I need a coffee.
Sometimes a loonie, because it's worth a roll of toilet paper.
(And try to be happy when you need one and don't have one.)
Sometimes a quarter buys me happiness,
because it means I can call the one I love.
Money can't guarantee happiness
and neither can food or shelter
but you still want those, don't you?
Money can't buy happiness, you say?
No?
Well, maybe you should try poverty.
Anna Quon is a Halifax poet, novelist, visual artist and filmmaker who likes to make paintings and short animated films of her original poetry. She is also a middle-aged, mixed race Mad woman, a writing workshop facilitator, and maker of messes. Anna holds a BA in English literature and has worked contracts in the not for profit sector all her adult life, except for several years as a freelance writer. She has traveled as far as the Czech Republic and Russia to work on her writing, spent a year of her life in the mental hospital, likes to swim and walk and and spends way too much time on social media for her own good. Anna's motto is "Be kind, be careful, be curious, but above all be kind."