Melting Pot

A meltdown has occurred at the local mint.
Brass and nickel bubbles violently.
Copper rain stains the highway, as
dinner gets cold in a thousand different homes.
Expecting a fallout, the government
forfeits the idea of minting altogether,
going for new millenium alternatives:
hullabaloo vouchers for the kids and elderly,
insurance for the hardened insane,
jagged aluminum for bartering parents,
kicking around dumpsters to find diapers.
Look, maybe money was never the issue.
Money didn't start the fire. Money
never flicked that awful switch.
Officially, the government blames the people.
People, they say, are what drove money
quietly out of business. People ought to
respect the tender reserve of alloys &
silver metals that give their life meaning.
Tomorrow the mint will be nothing but silt.
Under the new provisions, government has
verified that it will be very difficult to live.
West of the river, the armory is stocked with
Xanax and crates of little bronze tokens.
Young children play by the well-oiled water.
Zeppelins fill the air, fueled by boredom.