Stolen Lollipops

I authorize the charges 
for summer camp spelunking, 
singing lessons, 
fancy orthodontia, 
proud to give him all this now. 

But jeez I miss the days 
when I’d eschew ATM convenience,
deposit paltry freelance checks 
during bank hours, 
swipe lollipops
from the counter. 

Steal five on Friday afternoon, 
then starting Monday
put one in each day’s lunchbox
with a note, 
“I love you, buddy,”
 
and picture his grin, 
those crooked teeth 
we would brush after dinner, 
before cuddling 
and Curious George.