Ten Dollar Lunch

 

Ten Dollar Lunch 


that ten dollar bill 

you gave me to clasp with your 

windshield wiper if 

I had a message?

I’ve always kept it folded ~

hidden, close to me 


I’ve never told you 

how often I think of it

how it melts my heart 

because – just like you –

it’s so random and quirky 

and unexpected 

 – was it for dog food? –

I forget. But now all I 

see is one part of

a thirty dollar 

lunch that caused a steep nosedive 

bursting pinatas 

I should return it ~

lift your windshield wiper and

say it bought that plate 

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