pay it back

the guy in line
behind me, has a cart full of hamburger
meat
and buns.
hot dogs. mustard, relish.
onions.
I see him counting his change,
his dirty fives
and ones.
he's covered in twigs and leaves,
as if he'd been sleeping in
the woods.
he swears to himself, mumbles
beneath his breath.
recounting his handful
of money. nervously
he pulls out all his pockets
and checks his shoes.
it's obvious that he isn't going
to have enough, so
before I leave
with my bags, I reach back and hand
him a twenty.
what? he says. really?
yup, I tell him.
it's fine. put it to good use.