Short Bit, Young Money

A boy swallows a dime while waiting

for the Red Line. By the time he 

steps off at Clark & Lake he's 

coughed up two nickels. Fittingly 

enough, he's five years old. His father

is five times ten. Fifty is ten lives

ahead of his own. He heads down

two flights of stairs, then takes the 

escalator deeper into the guts of

the Thompson Center. Now it's 

the Blue Line he's waiting for. 

He swallows both nickels and sits. 

The rats bumbling along the tracks

scatter into electrified shadows

and the train booms to a full stop. 

Stepping into its split sides 

his stomach kicks up five pennies.

He hands them to the first fried

soul standing to the right of him.

Then takes the nearest empty seat

to his left. Fifty times younger than

his father, but underground now, and faster. 

The old smell of who owes who lifts. 
Or is that just the stink of ancient piss?