$5 for Molly

four food groups
roofs overhead, sheltering warmth,
radiant sheets
the latest dreads, or at least
a rugged concoction of cotton.

instead, $5 for Molly.

it buys little nutrition.
it pays little rent.
it purchases little clothing.

but the morning dose of
guilt.

the wondering of when,
when will I crumble from
sympathy?

when are my consumer
purchases going to have
less importance than minimising
another’s grief?

$5 for Molly
buys that.

“Have a good day,”
I leave, to float in the air
just above a practically
useless drop of paper,
that bluish one hued
with a rich Prime Minister
or some fool.

“You have a good one too,”
simply rises up.
a minimal response.
a minimal effort.
but maximum impact.