One Dollar Bills

Around eleven I pull up under the bright florescent lights
Roll up the window and lock the door of my little Chevy
On sore feet I wander up to the glass door.
Behind is the sleepy night shift clerk
Who’s waiting on other weary and worn down workers

I wrench open my bloated red leather wallet
And flip one, two, three, four George Washington’s
Flipping more and more like dealing cards
I murmur ten on nine with eyelids drooping.

Yeah I’m a handler of ones
One could assume I am either a
Gambler, stripper, server or bartender.
Maybe I’m all four

In fact I feel like taking a gamble
Stripping off this oxford shirt
Drive home in my bra
Put my feet up
And service some alcohol.

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