By the river

I get paid

on the tenth of every month,

usually around morning

but I don’t check the account

until midnight,

when my shift ends

and I am walking towards the bus stop.

It’s not much

but at that time of night

when the walk on an even ground

feels like trek up a mountain,

the amount seems a lot.

There are places to sit

by the river

on my route

and I use them

and look at the balance.

Commended as a child

by all the teachers

about my imagination

for being exceptional,

there on that bench

I make use of it

by adding a few zeroes.

Then I fantasize

about all the uses

of that number

and for a moment

feel okay,

almost good,

but not quite.

I was also reprimanded

by the same teachers

for I was not quite as good

at Math,

but I make up for that shortcoming

by using a calculator

and do some subtraction

on that bench.

A third

goes to the landlord.

The half of what remains

for the groceries and commute

then another chunk

for the interest on the credit card

and then

the minor expenses

then,

Nothing really.

I try to make use

of my imagination again

but no matter how great it might be

a zero remains zero

even with others zeroes attached behind it.

I don’t feel like a rich man then,

I don’t feel like a man at all.

I think of the time

when I was hired

and the employer hinted

about my pay increasing

as I gained experience,

that was three years ago.

I’d have left

but

then I’d have to hear

the same lie

from someone else.

I am too tired to ask for anything now

and many years older

and vanishing, but not quite.

A Yellowish orange metal divider runs

along the shore

separating it from the water.

Often, I walk on it

and when the tide is inland,

the river swells

I can touch the water

with the soles of my feet.

If I fall then,

there will be no lifeguard

and the river is below zero.

Surely that will be the end of me

but I don’t want to fall.

Still, I cannot stop walking

on that thin railing.

.