spare_change kerry on the train going to work, a man behind me tapped me my shoulder. he said he didn’t mean no disrespect but did i have some change, and something about a sandwich. i told him i don’t carry cash, which is true–i rarely have cash. but that morning i had six quarters in my pocket that i’d counted out from the ashtray at home, specifically for a cup of coffee at the cafe on the 14th floor, and i wanted it. he said even 84 cents for a sandwich, ma’am. a peculiar amount to ask for. he was polite when i said sorry, i don’t have cash, and he repeated he didn’t mean no disrespect and okay. i sat there feeling cold and hating myself, a bad taste in my mouth like i’d forgotten to brush my teeth. i was so aware of his gentle presence behind me and the quarters in my pocket, and i wrestled with my thoughts–how i’d anticipated the ritual, pushing the button for floor 14, $1.50 exactly, and then floor 19 with the coffee finally in my hand. on the one hand, how selfish am i? and on the other, how much should i do every day for other people? and on the third, what’s a few quarters, not even a dollar, why is this even a dilemma? then i remembered the tiny change purse i’d lost and recently found, a souvenir from turkey my neighbor gave me when i was maybe ten years old. it contains: lip balm a tampon a single piece of nicotine gum an ancient bandaid a hair elastic a bobby pin some coins, sometimes –all the just-in-cases– he didn’t mean any disrespect. i’d wanted to slap him and say i don’t feel disrespected. it reminded me of how my mother calls me and when i don’t answer she sends an apologetic text for calling at what must be an inopportune time, an obsequiousness that makes my stomach curdle. i glanced back at him and made a wait-a-moment gesture, still despising myself, and dug for the change purse. there were two quarters and i passed them over my shoulder like salt. he said thank you ma’am, god bless, and i didn’t feel any better about myself, just thankful that it was my stop and hoping he wasn’t watching me as i climbed the steps two by two. i hadn’t meant any disrespect but i felt drenched in it as i hurried to work with my quarters jingling in my pocket. 220402 what's it to you? who go blather from