If you’ve got a coin you might carelessly
toss it in the cup holder without a cup
to give to a humble guy who washes your windscreen
at the petrol station.
Or you might slip it into the tight back pocket
of a new pair of jeans to listen to it clink in rotation
when you forget to take it out again before
putting your pants in the washing machine.
Or you might keep it in a jar with
a bunch of other browner coins with
green residue rubbing off on clean fingers when
diving for cigarette money on a desperate day.
Or you might add to the weight of the
already-too-heavy side section of your purse,
only to empty it all onto a counter in a coffee shop
where everything costs more than just a few coins.
But that one time someone needs a coin from you,
you might not have one in the empty cup holder
or you’re not wearing those tight jeans,
or you haven’t emptied the jar at home in a while,
or your always-too-heavy side section of your purse
has just been emptied on a counter in a coffee shop
where everything costs more than a few coins
and now you’re left telling someone who needs just one coin:
“Sorry, I don’t have any money.”
(Jana Ferreira, 2016)