Four Minutes for a Nickel

The rain is turning to a slushy gray ice

and the app on my phone is spinning its wheel.

I need a small mercy, a cheap little price

to keep the meter maid from making a deal.

I dug through the lining of my coat,

past a gum wrapper and a ball of old lint,

and found one nickel, a dull metal note

with a faint, scratched-out buffalo hint.

I shoved it in the slot and watched the red flag

drop down like a tongue to show me the time.

Four minutes. Not enough to even lag

or wait for the dental clock to chime.