Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

The Vending Machine

Just one quarter short,
I crouch in search
of the money to complete my dollar.

I look under machines
and over them too,
wishing I were just one inch taller.

Then all of a sudden,
in the veiled change slot,
is the quarter I so madly desire.

I insert the coins,
but my snack doesn’t fall.
The one dollar sign was a liar.





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