A black nickel on the Formica, ringed in white. How long has it been there? When I was a child I was so poor that I told myself the day would never come when I passed up a penny on the concrete. I did the math and the earnings per hour on errant penny retrieval and that kinda money, if I could sustain it, would keep me outta any hole.
That black nickel, it's someone else's lucky token. Finally it went to Hilario, whose guardian angel - a real, living one - blessed him with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. On the way down it worked past all the city's creosote, dust and ashes, its underpass ventilation and bad old butts in the name of industry.
He said, Somebody left this money for me.