I had a holiday job
upstairs in a cubby hole
fielding metal capsules
reading every message
putting change
into cylinders
like vitamins

whacking that top lip
open,
feeding that hollow brass snake
with change
to be pooped
on a customer
two floors down.

I loved this job.
I was trusted with money
catching live grenades
counting pills
feeding the needy
and playing those tubes
like an organ.

 

Poem by Rachel McAlpine CC BY 2.0. Photo public domain.