Unit 4B and the Gas Bill

The grocery store floor smelled of lemons and wax,

and suddenly I was back in the hallway on 4th,

carrying a bag of laundry up the narrow stairs

with a receipt for the deposit folded in my shoe.

I remember the radiator most of all—

a white iron ribcage that hissed like a snake

but stayed cold to the touch in January.

We wore our coats to bed.

Three hundred dollars seemed like a fortune then.

I stayed up calculating the cost of the stove,

watching the blue flame and wondering

if the landlord would notice the crack in the tile

I hid under a rug I bought for five bucks.