My Banker Poem by Sidi Mahtrow

My Banker



Was at the bank making a deposit
Didn't have my checkbook
She said, 'No problem.'
Your driver's license please.

In a flash she'd filled in the blanks
Stamped, For Deposit Only
On the check's back
And presented it to the teller.

Whisk; through the machine
reading numbers and verifying
The amount and bank source
From which it came.

Done; and she handed me
A thermal print receipt
'Is this all I get,
Not even a lollypop.'

My banker friend
Reached across the counter
Took two in colored wrappers
From the display.

'Take these, ' she said, 'They're quite good.
And when next time you come,
Call in advance I'll have
A Turkish treat prepared for you.

Do you like chickpeas.? '

Eat your heart out
All those that use
The drive-up window
Direct deposit or the ATM.

Friday, August 29, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: food
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
My banker is from Turkey. We often discuss food and restaurants.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
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