“How to Know If Your .89 is Real”: #3: By the Letters
You miss, more than many,
the loss of .11. It hits you hard
when you pass a dimestore
and your phantom hand sweeps
a pocket for what is left over.
It’s all you can hold in a world
that won’t even afford you
a reflection in a foggy window,
or return your last earnest breath
in exchange for your having given it.
This handful is your gross worth:
four pennies, three quarters, two nickels.
A palm full of precious metal:
8. . .
9. . .
You shake your hand to hear it
but the sound is lost in the audible
breath of another who has come by
and says:
“HI.”
8. . .
9. . .
“How are you?”
Two letters.
8. . .H
9. . .I
You turn amazed that someone sees
you. You pat your own chest again
and it all feels real. You try to conjure .11
to say:
“K.”
when you realize the other person
was also trying to clear the window.
a pink, fleshy palm sweeps away
the dew and the person looks inside
what ends up being a dollar store
and turns away, one hand shaking
the tinkle of metal in a closed fist.
You try again to clear the pane.
Huff into the glass:
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How are you?”
Paul W. Hankins (March 2015)