Spare Change

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The scent of french fries

Follows me along the frontage road

To cheap cologne

In the parking lot

At 24 Hour Fitness

Where people only see themselves.

I stop for the falling ashes

Of wasted lives in the alley

Behind the bus station.

I shall not want


Part of the building

For the evening.

Further on the dark walls

Marked by urine

Are broken by

A bar door opening.

Laughter beckons


The warmth inside is a gift

For the moment its takes

The door to disappear,

Spare change

In the slow crawl

Of night.




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