the washington post.
a hundred and twenty
newspapers rolled
into tight batons
and thrown onto porches
up and down
the streets of the projects.
mostly running.
my dog beside the wagon.
four in the morning,
done by five.
and back in bed,
covered in sweat despite
the snow and wind.
it was money from heaven.
i still have the IOU note
from my mother
for the time
she borrowed forty dollars
to buy groceries
for thanksgiving.
it took a while, but eventually,
i let her slide.
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