Citibank Teller

by Cassady

Posted to Action Poetry on 2001-03-26 18:23:00

If so inspired, please critique!


Citibank Teller

Skyscraper high stacks of green mint money
live in the salient drawer on your lap. you tap
your shiny shrink shoe on the pseudo-tile floor-
countdown to 5. tap tap tap tap tap.

You wear
black businessman pants
a skinny tie
a craggy too-white starch stiff shirt.

Money smells like paper.
Paper is made of money.
Cigarette day-dreams and lunch-break ladies
file in corporate glass roundabouts
and the “please wait for next teller” line.

I think:

During the day you think of me- lunch break,
commute, the seven-minute soft drink and
cigarette break. You think of me in my
long purple skirt, thin white t-shirt, big
burnished Gucci glasses.

You:

Make money flip books to bide your time,
speak Arabic with Habiba between clients.
Count withdrawals with tellerly love,
and dream of a Priceline deal to Peru.

IÂ’d buy it for you.