That Quarter

was kissed in the lobby of a Chicago hotel.

traveled in a couch in Columbus, Ohio, five blocks
from Neil Avenue to High Street.

was sent turning into the air off the thumb of a man trying
to decide if he should quit his job as a financial analyst
for Nationwide Insurance.

spent seven years in a coffee can secretly buried under
a backyard pine tree.

died in a Detroit casino.

was born again in exchange for a pillowed tooth.

slipped from a pocket on the bus in Pittsburgh.

paid for crucial car repair in Vancouver.

completed the sum of twenty dollars owed to Scott Fenner
by Brian Thompson on January 13, 1969, as the result
of a bet concerning the probable age of the earth.

disappeared into the carpet of a Kansas City brothel.

slept for an evening in a tip jar at the Rumba Café.

tumbled into the condom dispenser hanging on the Men’s Room
wall at the Flying J Truckstop, Exit 5, Interstate 71.

seemed to be pulled mysteriously from your ear by a young man at the bar.

* * *

This is my response to this week’s prompt at Read Write Poem. The topic is “change.”