O! Beautiful bank teller!
I know the last thing the world needs is another part-time poet
Loving you from a vast distance,
Touching the pen because you touched it,
Licking the wounds of slips and deposits
With gummy melted candy suckers
Shoved deep down in my pockets.
But your face
When you dropped and shuffled and clicked
The presidents all in a row,
How the skin of it white as piano keys –
No flats, all sharps, an echo –
Sparkled with this faint sweat,
A cashmere sweat,
A Bank of America sweat.
I knew I would be poor forever and ever.