I woke up
to sunbeams
glazing over my face,
Grandma perched at the lower-left corner
of the queen-sized bed.
The pastel-colored jacks
I played with —
out the ball,
of course.
Silly me.
The phone calls I made,
my hidden talent:
dialing digits in exchange
for a few tears shed —
don't try this at home.
I brought my pouch
to salvage abandoned coins:
I was the breadwinner
for once,
but I couldn't find George, Abe, or Ben anywhere...
How strange.
Papa gave me the honor
of scratching the winning lottery ticket
with the lucky quarter
I found at the park:
we never hit the jackpot,
but we didn't need to —
we never really needed to.
And now,
I can't seem to remember the rest.