Why thank you for the 93¢
Sir, not that it would have made my life any easier
If you had 7¢ worth of forgiveness
To deal in pennies in 2018
I must be in Missouri
I must be in a shack that serves pizza
With a battered AC unit, warm olives, sweaty banana peppers
Ready, by the power vested in polycarbonate tongs
We’re near enough to 4/50ths
Of a dollar, over a dollar
I believe that extra 7¢ of coffee hit my empty gut
The combination of it
And the oven that is August
Has a charming way of bending me over
To vomit
And my body has an adorable way
Of denying me my due ejection
So I dry heave my way home
With a stomach unleavened