Salvation

That time of year; the robotic ringing bell casting shame, like spells in small doses. They look so cold. Bored. It's been a long day. Worse than invisibility to be more of a bother. The little red bucket that can't hold much, begging guilted fingers for having it all. Don't make eye contact. Smallish smile, if having to. Came prepared with empty pockets. I can be of no help. In any case; we're all plastic now.