Five in the Jar

Dropped the five. She didn't see.

Should have been enough for me.

It wasn't. Stood there wanting what—

a nod, a look, some little gut-

level proof I'm good. The trick

performed, the dog still waiting. Sick

of myself by the time she slid

the cup across. That's what I did

with my morning: tipped, then stayed.

Wanting to be seen. Repaid.

KARMA on the jar, peeling at the R.

I took the cup. Sat in my car.

The coffee was fine.

I wasn't. I'm still not. That's the line.