He stops me on the corner of state and Johnson
just after the blurry line of switching todays
eyes shiny change purses,
pupils glinting like dimes.
we compare our inked skins
discuss meanings of stained bodies and
shake hands.
reaching into denim tightened pockets
I have a 5.
“If you ever need anything, let me know,” he says.
Handing away crumpled bills,
the paper is too thin to fill my stomach.
I need anything.