He craves trades and margins
the selling of lots
the yelling of barkers
from the opening bell
to the final chime
and lights run across a crawl
showing losses and gains
to stir the adrenaline rush
of anticipation feared and wished
the elations and depressions
of expectations met and unmet
and he keeps his place in the traders' pit
day after day and he returns
even when he can stand it no more
to stake his claim among merchants
and make and break devotions
and even when he thinks of Heaven
he'd sell his soul.
—Mike Bayles
