Poem by Jonce Palmer
Day $1.46
all the cash I had on me
at the gas station
with work tomorrow
I wonder about JCPenny
and the story I learned
as a youngster
how taking a penny
off a price
made it harder
for cashiers to steal
from their own drawer
it came out like
counterfeit bills
counted by high-
schoolers
sweaters for a penny
less think how far
the dollar can be stretched
when prices are a penny more
different folks with
all the cash I had on me
at the gas station
with work tomorrow
I wonder about JCPenny
and the story I learned
as a youngster
how taking a penny
off a price
made it harder
for cashiers to steal
from their own drawer
it came out like
counterfeit bills
counted by high-
schoolers
sweaters for a penny
less think how far
the dollar can be stretched
when prices are a penny more
different folks with signs
saying anything helps
can be found outside the store
their cardboard files neatly
accounted for
at closing time
meanwhile I head home
less than ¾ gallon
kicking myself that I didn’t
stop at more than ¾ gallon’s
worth projected
from the neon bars
here lies a hypothetical
morning:
I’d wake up
with blissful nowhere
to go
no more
glasses full or empty
just containers
containing stuff
and space for more
because the bullshit
they fed me about
counterfeit bills and pennies
is them tricking you
into thinking of $19.99
as just $19
feel the crumb of regret
when you hear the clerk
read the total back to you
with tax
here’s what’s worse:
prices becomes uneven
harder to calculate on
mental paper and pencil
imagine as teens work
the grocery checkout
they use ever-lamented math
to price onions
and other dead things
conveyed across every
factory floor
I’m not yet convinced
either way
on the price scales
their ideal state
O America
how you never fail
to leave us unskilled
yet inadvertently
teach us how to destroy you
I know I would sleep
better picturing
the extra gas
in my tank
it’s not a dream
any human deserves
signs
saying anything helps
can be found outside the store
their cardboard files neatly
accounted for
at closing time
meanwhile I head home
less than ¾ gallon
kicking myself that I didn’t
stop at more than ¾ gallon’s
worth projected
from the neon bars
here lies a hypothetical
morning:
I’d wake up
with blissful nowhere
to go
no more
glasses full or empty
just containers
containing stuff
and space for more
because the bullshit
they fed me about
counterfeit bills and pennies
is them tricking you
into thinking of $19.99
as just $19
feel the crumb of regret
when you hear the clerk
read the total back to you
with tax
here’s what’s worse:
prices becomes uneven
harder to calculate on
mental paper and pencil
imagine as teens work
the grocery checkout
they use ever-lamented math
to price onions
and other dead things
conveyed across every
factory floor
I’m not yet convinced
either way
on the price scales
their ideal state
O America
how you never fail
to leave us unskilled
yet inadvertently
teach us how to destroy you
I know I would sleep
better picturing
the extra gas
in my tank
it’s not a dream
any human deserves
Jonce Palmer
Jonce Marshall Palmer is a nonbinary poet & organizer living in Tallahassee. Their chapbook, Searching For Smoke Rings, is available from Ghost City Press. You can connect with Jonce and see more of their work on Twitter @masterofmusix or on their website https://jmpalmer.carrd.co.
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