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My love gave me thirty dollars this morning,

I am shocked, confused, and in deep sadness.



Shocked, my happiness comes from giving to others,

I am not used to this.

I make my Christmas gifts, recycle old stuff into usable things again.

My artwork and craftsmanship came as a necessity, not luxury.

I don’t give junk.

I make seven hundred and sixty or so a month,

It’s  just enough for basic needs and a few wants, but I’m good.

I mean I’m not complaining.  I  am content.



I can take care of myself, I know this.

However, this thirty dollars, could…

         Pay off my layaway….but it’s not of utmost priority.

         Pay off my auto bill….which has been thirty to fifty dollar payments on a bill for over a year.

                                            And God it would feel so good to get that out of my hair.

         Pay on my pharmacy bill—which will free up some money next month to really be able to do stuff.

         Buy some petrol fuel ..but I’ve already allotted for that in my budget, and we’ve both been riding

                                            in her truck because it gets better gas mileage anyway.



         Was I supposed to save it for this afternoon, so I could buy lunch,

         We talked about buying shower bath gel, one that doesn’t tickle my nose.

                     I guess I could pick it up, but I don’t want to buy something she doesn’t like.



What the fuck do I do with this!  I don’t want to make the wrong choice.

            We’re going to Wichita, but I don’t buy office supplies,

            And I’m getting my tax check, that will buy my new jeans and a belt,

                     Of course, I’ll get other things.   Three hundred some is a sizeable refund…..yet,

                                 Not as refundable as we’d all like or hope.  But refunds can’t be bigger than yearly income.



However in my confusion and shock, I am happy.

She smiled when she gave it to me,

         Made it a POINT,

Of caressing my hand as she laid the money in my palm.



But I am sad,

She is wealthy by most standards.

She has a semi-new truck, I have a beat up old ’77 Impala,

           Where I do still pride myself on it’s good engine, even if a gas guzzler.

            As I drive down the highway, the car gives me power when I need it, even if I hardly get out of first gear.

She’s educated and has more in left-brain logic than I could ever dream.

            Make sense of numbers, I don’t even take care of my own checkbook.

She’s working a semi-low stress job,  that is environmentally equipped with central heating and cooling.

            Yet I’d give for my old job, that had a 160 degree heated oven, 60 feet long,

             Where I made nearly 12.00 an hour.

But instead, I’m on disability.



She’s been in the military, seen the world.

             Which interests me greatly, being a WWII History buff.

             But I’d have liked to have had that chance:  still I’m cozy in my home of ceramics and art.

             And of course, my wolfer-sniffs, where would my sanity be without Jobie, Jittter-bug?



Yet, Luella is coming, and will change both of our lives.

             Where does my lifestyle of muddy tennis balls, and dog bones fit in the life of a newborn?



My Love tells me, “I don’t care about what you have, it’s what is in your heart that I need and want.”

She writes poetry like me, yet never has she wrote more beautiful lines.  

These are the ones that make me cry,

When tears flow

As I TAKE her thirty dollars.





Originally wrote:  March 14, 2003