The Quarter Paladin

He waits near the carts
in full armor
with a crown of quarters
in one gloved hand.

When someone approaches
he steps forward
and offers release.

Here, he says,
allow me.

Some pretend
they forgot something
and walk back to their cars.
Some wait a little farther off
hoping he’ll choose
someone else.

A manager comes out
before noon
talking about liability.
When he looks up from his phone,
the armor is gone.

Only quarters
remain in the slots,
each cart released
from the next.

A woman
takes one
easily,
thanking no one.