Temporary High of Possibilities
by Janine Margiotta
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Fresh bagels were baked this morning;
a doughy scent still clung to the baskets.
We picked out a dozen; one each
buttered and toasted.
When I handed my visa-check card
to the cashier I felt poor, sliding
it from under my hand so my mother
couldn't see it. Children
shouldn't have to see their parents
financially distracted.
Maybe once in a lifetime
during the first stages of divorce.
While I am buying books
she's in an interview at a temp-service
worrying about the house payments
and having to sell, how to feed
the dog and minimize her menus.
To me, temp-services are just that --
a temporary high of possibilities.
What time have we left?
It begins running out like the parking meter.
With a few paltry dollars
she buys a little more endurance
so the race can start again.
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