One for a nickel, two for a dime
We’re both waiting, in a way.
Me—for caffeine to offer a boost during the drive home.
Him—for something less abstract: a dollar, a nod, a moment of being seen.
The foam clings to my lip, and I wipe it away without thinking.
He wipes rain from his eyes with a frayed sleeve.
I wonder if he had a latte once.
If he remembers the taste of warm milk and
the peace of not needing anything.
Greg Clary is a retired college professor who was born and raised in Turkey Creek, West Virginia. He now resides in the northern Pennsylvania Wilds.
His photographs have appeared in The Sun Magazine, Looking at Appalachia, Rattle, Hole in the Head Review, Pine Mt Sand & Gravel, Tiny Seed Journal, Watershed Journal, About Place, Change Seven, Appalachian Lit, and many more.
His writing has been published in Rye Whiskey Review, The Bridge Literary Journal, Northern Appalachia Review, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Waccamaw Journal, Anti-Heroin Chic, Trailer Park Quarterly, Black Shamrock Magazine, Rust Belt Review, and Tobeco.
His book of photographs and poetry, “The Vandalia in Me”, was published in 2024. He is co-author of Piercing the Veil: Appalachian Visions (2020).
