The ATM spat out the receipt like a dare

The ATM spat out the receipt like a dare.

I looked at the balance, the comma

in a place it never used to be,

and felt a sudden, sharp flare

of something that wasn't quite glee.

I bought the coat with the heavy wool,

the one that cost more than my first car.

I stood on the corner, feeling like a fool,

waiting for the warmth to reach that far

underneath the ribs where the air stays cool.

But the wind doesn't care about the price,

it cuts through the fiber and the thread.

I reached for a bill, quick and precise,

and the edge of the twenty ran red

where it sliced my thumb like a sliver of ice.