Currency

The mattress dips where I sit on the edge,

I’m looking for a way to hedge the bet.

The zoo is forty miles, the tank is dry,

I'm staring at the floor and trying not to lie.

He holds a crumpled five out in his palm,

his face is full of that terrifying calm.

I see the sticky ring around his thumb,

where a Band-Aid used to be, now gray and gum.

The money is a soft and sweaty wad.

I take it, feeling like a heavy fraud.