Posted in poetry

Jiggle (Change in my pocket)

The change in my pocket
jiggling
hot against my leg
took a week to find
digging in couches,
and dirty laundry
and under the car seat
and in the console
in this August heat
fingertips first finding
chip crumbs
sand from last month’s visit to Panama City
old receipts
and dirty socks
but now
I have change in my pocket
jiggling
hot against my leg
too hot to sit still so
play outside until sweat
becomes a second skin
then fall on the cool concrete
porch at Grandma’s house
because the big cousins
are sitting in from of the fan
trying to be cute
I am too hot to move
until
I hear that longed for tune playing in the distance
let them scramble and beg for
their change
between them all just a little to spare
Me,
I had change in my pocket
now jiggling in my hand
counting the coins while I wait
for two King Cones.

Jiggle

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Author:

Poetic moments in the words of a dreamer and other randomness in the words of a believer. "Hang yourself, poet, in your own words. Otherwise, you are dead." ~ Langston Hughes

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