He's found her in the gallery,
This spotty neighborhood
Where cash is king
And what's available today
Might not be back tomorrow
And he's the one who's out of place--
Suspicious eyes on concrete steps--
In his short-sleeved shirt.
He hands her fifteen folded twenties,
Says call your mom, she misses you.
She nods and slips the bills inside her bra,
Says something not quite loud enough.
He takes a step, looks back and says,
Your brother scored two goals last night.