Classic Poem

HERE in a cage the dollars come down.
To the click of a tube the dollars tumble.
And out of a mouth the dollars run.
I finger the dollars,
Paper and silver,
Thousands a day.

Some days it's fun
to finger the dollars.
Some days . . .
the dollars keep on
in a sob or a whisper:
A flame of rose in the hair,
A flame of silk at the throat.