12:52PM * 9/30/12 * WTHDRWL
In line behind a lady, my automatic distance
(to her, the curb
behind me, the bank parking lot
full of cars)—
we are relearning arrangement
That all remaining choices are either physical
the money inside the money alive.
I approach the ATM’s outer shell. Stand there.
It comes up
to my liver. The chambers of the heart
and lungs polish the breath.
I smell the wet wood chips off the path.
my old supervisor with hail on his coat.
It’s warmer now, the planet.
We wait for the wonderful machine to cough
up my balance. I want to be
automatically the only one alive.
I notice a large robin
egg on the sidewalk.
Near the building, some tulips open
too wide to go on living.
Christopher Salerno‘s books of poems include Minimum Heroic, winner of the 2010 Mississippi Review Poetry Series Award, and Whirligig (Spuyten Duyvil, 2006). A chapbook, ATM is available from Horse Less Press. Recent and future poems can be found in journals such as Fence, Boston Review, Denver Quarterly, Colorado Review,LIT, Salt Hill, Verse Daily, American Letters and Commentary, and elsewhere. Currently, he is an Assistant Professor of English at William Paterson University where manages the new journal, Map Literary.
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