-Samiya Bashir-

— then two women one old and one young pulled aside
off the highway and into the poorly lit driveway of Popeye’s 
off I-94 in a truck stop. They wanted to buy some fried chicken.
One had a five and the other three ones and together they purchased 
a three piece two biscuits a leg and a thigh
       and they let  
the poor girl with the pockmarked-up face and the torn 
lace from panties caught up in her apron just
 keep the change.
so she did and she quietly squirreled away five 
for herself
and then later that night after steaming in dark lint-lined slacks 
made of fake polyester and worn to a shine smelling french 
fried and coated in salt stains the dusty bill rose it emerged
from that pockmarked girl’s pocket and slid to the palm 

of the man singing — 
Newport! Five dollar! Five dollar! 
who kept it aloft in his palm where the wind swept the frail 
greasy paper up into the air far above where the man waved 
his smokes
       far above far above where a mother leaned out
of her window above to the baby who leaned sorta 
safely up next to the grates. It fell right on his hand 
which was sticky with Chef Boyardee or Spagetti’Os maybe 
who cares. I mean really
     who cares but the breeze 
and the bill and the man selling smokes 
because mama needs ‘ports so he’s one 
lucky baby who finally gets 
lifted down.