Petty
She carries her carnage like a
book of coupons, two for one,
grief and remorse.
I’m going to this, I’m going to
that, all the things to
which I am going.
And yet, not enough for your
share of the meal, a loan which
will not be repaid.
Tell me when it was that you
opted out of the species.
I reach into the glove box to
gather change for a cheeseburger.
A handful of pennies, two lonely nickels,
twenty minutes when you sat in
my car alone.
The scent of narcissus overwhelms the
room, until finally the
blossoms must be tossed out.
The Ranfurly Review
ScotlandFrom the collection Fields of Satchmo
Photo by MJV
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