Marcia Gardiner

Spending Nickels

The new paisley sofa/couch/chesterfield is snug against the long wall
and flat-backed to it,

I am dissolving like sugar.

Our second rainy day.

Up west,

Gaston prays the downpour doesn’t catch him out –

but it will.

I confess I’m anxious about the next phase of the job I met about last week,

though I refuse to sit by the phone

squandering hours like pocket change in a nickel machine.

Garlic stretches its yellow leaves, sipping the humid air.
When do you get the car?

Ah, so red!

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