i always feel hopeful
before i check
the status of my
bank account
the things i need
the things i want
happy little plans
gone to ashes
as soon as log in
i don’t know what
it is exactly
i think will be there
a magical thousand dollars
i forgot about
maybe a sudden surge
in book sales
i somehow missed
but it is always
at least a hundred
dollars less than needed
far enough below
to gamble between
groceries and rent
the hope turns into
batteries in my mouth
as i try to figure
what is possible
on a theoretical budget
from accounts in arrears
next month i whisper
knowing next month
is holidays and birthdays
the bills keep increasing
yet the means
lags farther behind
hope is the hook
in the cheek of a salmon
that fought for
each and every inch
just to get home


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