As I stand in the grocery store
vistas
of food all around me
The shelves are so stinking tall
That I cannot reach my favorite cereal
Cap'n Crunch
I think that stinks
My money, greasy bills, sweaty palm-scented coins
Is all balled up in my left jeans pocket
I will reach for my right jeans pocket first
Giving the impression that I've lost my money
I have lost some of it
A Quarter
Lying on a yellow stripe in the parking lot
Weighting down a single fluttering strip of torn paper
Like a dying butterfly
With my mother's handwriting on it.
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