The Why of We

he stared at the ticket.
"money is thoreau's chain" he muttered.
half of his mind wanted to burn it.
having just scammed one of uncle sam's bastard children (
    one down, fifty more to go (
          no wait, america, not a deck of cards
    ).
)
out of 21000 dollars, he felt guilty, raised as they were in such a climate (
    though to be fair, children they were no longer. they were gnarled men (
          and women? florida, at least, is a man.
    ).
    spirits of prattling, senile, malice that the young, illusioned, and illiterate (
          perhaps only illexpresed
    )
    would call "fucked up" (
          perhaps adding "man" either as a concise statement of our condition or as     
          a further expression of ill-expresiveness
    )
    and the old and deluded would call "wise"
).
he raised his lighter.
"and yet..."
man is like a cigarette addict (
    he lit one himself, the smoke blazing obscure trails, guiding his thoughts
).
The cigarette, the smokers chain (
    chain smoking is an apt name
),
burns. And when the ash crumbles and the butt bounces into the crowded gutter, he is satiated (
    which is not quite the same as content (
          thanks and sorry mr. robbins
    ).
)
Yet evermore another cigarette burns (
    to accentuate his point (
          for the benefit of the faithfully listening garbage can
    ),
    he lit another.
).
no, he shouldn't burn it.
the answer is not to burn the chain, but to lengthen it (
    damn it, his lighter's out of fluid (
          and there is one chain he'd gladly burn (
              "from now on, i'm calling cigarettes "thoreaus'" "
          )
    )
).
yes, he must lengthen his chain.
but how?
spending (
    even on a noble cause
)
is just another form of burning.
He should invest it, yes! and watch his chain grow and grow and grow... (
    or perhaps...
    "A motorcycle."
)