the penny jar

i see that the penny jar
is nearly
full.
nickels dimes and quarters have
found their
way in.
it overflows.
it's time to take it to the bank
and slosh it into
the machine.
it makes the teller, Kamil,
grin.
a white turban sits on his head.
he's brown
and old, but friendly
and knows my name.
we talk about the weather,
just that and
the count
when the receipt is printed out
and i take the cash
instead.
very good, he says. very good.