the penny dish: a dream I hope to awake to
Based on a prompt by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer.
back in the days of cash money
greenbacks soft as cotton
or crisp as pressed trousers
coins that made your palms smell of ore
and that ever-present jingle in my father’s restless pocket
often at the register you’d find
a small shallow dish
sometimes with an invitation:
need a penny? take one
have a penny? leave one
or something along those straightforward lines
never did I see someone
dump the whole plate into their handbag
or rake their fist through the copper discs
and clench them all triumphantly
worth next-to-nothing, no one coveted them
and no one stockpiled them
no one tried to shovel their
leaky bucket full of cents
no, people stuck to being reasonable.
they showed restraint
and took only what they needed.
they had sense.
