I’ll Tell You a Bank
Bank number two was well-lit
There was barely any line
and though discomfort tugged at my nerves,
a woman appeared out of nowhere
to pat me on the back
and welcome me in.
She was so maternal;
it instantly eased me.
Bank number one had been a nightmare.
The long entrance was hooded in dark,
yellow light. People littered everywhere
with deep frowns in their hardened faces.
The woman behind me
was more miserly than matronly,
constantly inching towards me
with impertinence and a sense of displeasure.
As we stood watching nervous tellers,
who apologized as profusely for the wait
as the child a few feet from us danced,
I battled over the decision of my life.
Should I let the harsh woman go before me,
risking spending more time in that horrid hole,
or just move on and take my rightful place.
I didn’t hesitate.
The woman didn’t seem very nice, anyway.
On my way out,
another lady with a great white smile
held the door with graceful patience
for the aged couple in front of me,
a man hunched over with age
a woman, lovingly fussing
that next time,
yes, next time they go out
they should bring the wheelchair,
and thank you miss for being so kind
and waiting on us
while the white smile woman
cheered the crippled man on.
He made it appear to be a colossal effort,
that walking thing.
Not wanting to think about it,
I peeled my way around them
and back into my car.