banking

i say "show me the money"
& my phone says, "invest now
& escape later." i got to the bank to live
out my dreams as a thief. of course
i do not perform a heist. i do not have
the wings needed or the teeth.
instead, i deposit fingernails 
& glass into my account. the man person
lady at the desk always changes. sometimes
she is a mirror dragon & other times
he is a little girl. has the worms count
quarters. i know there is a dungeon somewhere
with all the gold. one time i leaned in
& i asked, "do they let you touch it?"
the goose said, "no, i have never seen
a dollar." the place is empty. we decide
this is our chance. we go together down the hall
of shut doors. behind each one 
is a different kind of sorrow. house sorrow
& empty sorrow & field sorrow &
leaking roof sorrow. i have known them all.
whoever said "money is the root 
of all evil" missed so much of the sweat.
evil yes but then there is the hunger
for the easy thing that is not easy. me & the goose don't
arrive anywhere. he keeps saying,
"it should be here. it has to be here."
once i found a twenty-dollar bill on 
the sidewalk. i quickly shoved it in my mouth.
it tasted like fingers & rush hour. 
i almost swallowed but i held steady. got home
& laid it out on my kitchen table, still
damp from my spit. when it dried 
i used it to by grapes. glorious black grapes.
man old man at the bank window always
lectures me about gambling. i tell him,
"i am not gambling." he laughs & says,
"or so you think."