On his way to work, he buys
a double espresso and a croissant. 
Sole breadwinner, he says he deserves
that perk, while I worry the bills 
we can’t afford to pay, do the wash,
and drink black coffee from a chipped mug.

October’s trees dazzle with color,
leaves crunch underfoot, scent like cinnamon
pulses the air. I push one child in the stroller,
cajole the other to stay close as we head
to the market to buy ground beef on sale.
A sudden wind whips dead leaves in our faces.

On impulse, I stop at the coffee shop
where I imagine him whipping his wallet out
like a man who prefers his Porterhouse rare.
I lift one boy onto my hip, steer the other
to the counter and with the meatloaf money
buy a foamy latte and two hot chocolates.


This poem first appeared in U.S. 1 Worksheets in 2017.
Used here with the author's permission.