A full-service organization

I'd deposited a check when the woman asked,

Is there anything else? She had a great smile.

It reminded me of a waxing moon.

I didn't want her to be a moon in vain,

so I said, I'll take all the money in your drawer.

She said, Of course. Then she said a funny thing.

Her head was down, she was looking at a stack of bills

in her hand, when she said, How would you like that?

Meaning tens or twenties. Hundreds or quarters.

And as soon as she said this, she stopped,

dropped her hands, smiled, looked at me,

shook her head and said, Duh. And something

opened between us. A sense of life

as renewable and surprising,

full of little errors that make us notice

we need and can give help. There's only one way

to want everything, she knew that

and was admitting her mistake. So I pointed out to her

that I didn't have a gun. She pointed out to me

that money is a knife we plunge into each other

over and over for no good reason.

If I'd have had a cord of wood

or even a few logs, I'd have built a fire

right there and talked to her

well into the night, but there was no tree

in sight. At the end, having handed me the money,

once more she asked, Is there anything else?

Yes, I said. I'd like to deposit this.

Checking or savings, she asked.

Given how far we'd come together, I admitted

I've never known how to answer that question,

if it's better to live for the moment

or look forward to a better time.

That's why I'm here, she said,

taking out a pencil and paper and dividing

the paper into two columns, one labeled

The Sky Is Falling, the other, So Am I.