The old woman
ahead of me in line
counts her change carefully.
She frowns, counts again.
Then, pointing:
“Thirty dollars worth.”
Fortune’s wheel spins
and she deposits
a handful of cardboard tokens
in her purse.
Moments later in the parking lot
I approach the grinding
of worn mechanical teeth
to peer under a rusty hood.
“Needs a new starter,” I venture.
The old woman shakes her head.
“Can’t afford it,” she moans.

© 2010 Peter C. Marcantel