They correct me, softly, when I misspeak,
about class issues,
like a child who must be taught about these weighty matters.

It is frustrating to wear waders in these conversations,
at this age,
living in derelict neighborhoods
for thirty years,
yet still understanding little about money
and opportunity and the way people live.

I always have an out.
I can always borrow money.

Still, people are kind
as they explain situations to me.
Perhaps I can be helpful to the cause.
Perhaps I can be made
to be of good use.

That is something to consider going forward, I suppose.