-Samiya Bashir-
— then two women one old and one young pulled aside
off the highway and into the poorly lit driveway of Popeye’s
off I-94 in a truck stop. They wanted to buy some fried chicken.
One had a five and the other three ones and together they purchased
a three piece two biscuits a leg and a thigh
and they let
the poor girl with the pockmarked-up face and the torn
lace from panties caught up in her apron just
keep the change.
so she did and she quietly squirreled away five
for herself
and then later that night after steaming in dark lint-lined slacks
made of fake polyester and worn to a shine smelling french
fried and coated in salt stains the dusty bill rose it emerged
from that pockmarked girl’s pocket and slid to the palm
of the man singing —
Newport! Five dollar! Five dollar!
who kept it aloft in his palm where the wind swept the frail
greasy paper up into the air far above where the man waved
his smokes
far above far above where a mother leaned out
of her window above to the baby who leaned sorta
safely up next to the grates. It fell right on his hand
which was sticky with Chef Boyardee or Spagetti’Os maybe
who cares. I mean really
who cares but the breeze
and the bill and the man selling smokes
because mama needs ‘ports so he’s one
lucky baby who finally gets
lifted down.