A poem by Jessica Einhorn:
A bit of coin becomes a mirror cracked -
By love of fame or greed or complex math -
It is a puzzle why some care so much -
For crypto cash not euro, yen, or pounds -
They say that money talks or maybe whispers -
I stand outside that chatting class of hipsters -
Who knew a piggy bank imprisoned more -
Than just my hopes for burgers and some slaw -
I learn that it is fiat that I hold -
A central bank in charge of all I buy -
The legal tender issued by a state -
How déclassé and even reprobate -
Alternatives appear in digital -
A universe of block chains built upon -
An algorithm so complex to solve -
You need a private key and public too -
A miner will create your currency -
A wallet now allows a shopping spree -
These coins are not so easily exchanged -
As carefree shows a different face which scowls -
And Mt.Gox loses virtue and reward -
Eight hundred thousand coins and more are gone -
So bankruptcy without a bank we learn -
Brings tears but no insurance in return -
Each day the mounting mystery accretes -
When Mister Nakamoto wants his lunch -
A high-speed chase in movieland L.A. -
Brings drama or perhaps its comedy -
A pseudonym’s disguise to be resolved -
Satoshi’s fate may Dorian absolve -
Next reparations are proposed online -
Munificence crowd sourced for damage done -
Betrayal trounced with generosity -
A white flag waves for anonymity -
Or is it just publicity for free? -
The scent of scam now overpowers me -
The mirror‘s crack reflects my countenance -
A smile across my face as I discern -
Those bits of coins are not the prize at all -
The payments system is the lasting gift -
Ignored because we need some time to sift -
The chaff of coins from platforms that will lift -
Who said necessity is mother’s womb -
Invention it turns out is born of whim -
