Gedicht von Martin Dragosits
ich warte auf
das richtige Geräusch
wenn es von oben
nach unten
in meine Geldbörse
fließt
der Wohlstand mich
ganz von selbst
erreicht
so wie es die Schule
von Chicago
uns verspricht
ich bete zum Markt
mit trocken gelegter Zunge
um einen angemessenen Preis
für meine Seele
für ein Rubbellos
zu meinem Glück
manchmal zweifle ich
und warte auf ein Wunder
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