What an enormous risk it would’ve been!
To leave on my lunch break with nine dollars
to my name and nothing around but ghettos,
some way up the road a man crashed his car,
there was ice on the road and the rain was blinding.
There’s got to be a lesson in all that, right?
A modern interpretation of Aesop’s fables?
If only I could play my cards right, maybe
you’d sneak up on me in the rain, like a mouse
toeing around a puddle, matching orange boots
and throbbing heartbeats. Our arms entwined
under a nine-dollar umbrella, dry and in style.
© Samuel Swauger
Samuel Swauger is a poet from Baltimore, MD. His work appears in Tilde, Third Wednesday, and the Front Porch Review, among other publications. His Twitter is @samuelswauger.