Five And Dime

Ever since I read
that damn story
in my brother’s damn magazine
when I was little,
I’ve been sure of it.

Before I pay the clerk
at the Five and Dime—
while I slept,
while I turned
onto Washington Street,
while I reached
into my jeans—

I slid
between dimensions.

I’ll put my coins on the counter
and the man who deals candy bars
will stare at me, and ask

what they are.
I’ll have to negotiate
a trade; and then figure out
the rest of the world.
At least I’ll have a Payday.

When he accepts
my Roosevelt dime
like he has since I was little, I’m sure
I’ve just dodged
the inevitable.

It’s funny how knowing
something is coming
never makes it easier
when it doesn’t.

Added: February 17, 2012 | Last changed: May 11, 2014