Is there enough?
look out the window–
I see a five dollar bill
on the money green deck
but it’s not real;
and I hate it
when the day
starts out, like this
with questions
And a gravelly voice
of a Seventies singer
describing in low tones
betrayal decades past;
many summers gone
and when I reach out
to fill my pocket
with hope–
that money I imagined
is also gone, but
in the darkness
of the leaf shadows
I find much
much more.