Dollar Shares

I buy a piece of Apple with a dollar.
Like I’m betting tomorrow
shows up at a banquet.
I sip coffee gone cold with time,
pretending I understand words like
dividends, portfolio, diversify.
Microsoft moves like a glitch in a machine.
Nike flies without looking down.
Callaway swings like it’s trying
to land a dart on the green.
Tesla—
who the hell knows.

I watch them like old men watch the sky.
Newspaper folded on their knee.
Every breath a prayer,
noticing the clouds and the crows.
Some days I’m up seventeen cents.
Like I’ve won something.
Like I’ve figured it out.
Some days I’m down four.
Like I’ve been reminded I haven’t.
I don’t sell. Not yet.
I’m learning what it feels like
to own a piece of noise
inside a shiny, obese machine.
If Bukowski were alive,
he’d be chuckling
beside his pool
in the suburbs.