.

I flipped a quarter and called heads,
then watched as it hit the ground
and rolled through the grate,
staring at me from the bottom of the drain
like a charm seeking its bracelet,
still crying because the clasp broke.
Taking a seat on the curb as the sun
began setting at the west end of the block,
I felt long shadows gathering at my feet,
swallowing me in darkness,
but still the coin glistened, mocking me.

The next morning I was awakened
by the sound of your alarm clock
through the open window two floors up,
when I heard him say “good morning”
and you closed the blinds.
Then glancing down into the sewer again
I saw a note where the coin had rested
in your handwriting that told me
something I had already figured out,
“It was tails, you lost.”