stray dogs and sparking children in rags
paw through the garbage together
at the edge of town, the dogs sniffing out
the good stuff for the children
to open up

red and black wires, Chinese junk
to ride the air waves now, reassembled
as radios for sale on the street
by a slick Chicano boy with dollar signs
in his eyes

a one-armed bandit, his phantom limb (pinned
to the empty sleeve) tunes their radios in
to news of the day after tomorrow,
when the rains will come again with acid
to eat away at every living thing

the dogs whine but children laugh at us
as they run away with the change
in their pockets

# # #

Pocket Change(s) by WC Roberts
originally published March 10, 2010



WC Roberts lives in a mobile home up on Bixby Hill, on land that was once the county dump. The only window looks out on a ragged scarecrow standing in a field of straw and dressed in his own discarded clothes. WC dreams of the desert, of finally getting his first television set, and of ravens. Above all, he writes.

For more of WC's work,
visit his Big Pulp author page


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