Exact Change

The coin basket is choked with a soda cup,

a sticky plastic block in the metal throat.

The whole line of us is backed up,

watching the exhaust and the asphalt float

in the heat. In the breakdown lane,

a rusted muffler has finally let go,

sitting in the oil-slicked rain

while we wait for the green light to show.

Twenty minutes of my life are burning

for the sake of a gate that won't lift.

I can feel the engine turning,

wasting the day in a slow, gray drift.