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 -