Ryan Bollenbach

OUT OF POCKET

last night, i remembered a chronic kidney disease and felt out of pocket. so i sat up and thought myself out of pocket. it felt like a room. there were objects inside that sang me to sleep from the floor. i dreamt so violent i woke up out of pocket. it was teeth that woke me—my teeth—undergoing surgery, and all my expenses were out of pocket. when my mouth was so full of porcelain and silver i couldn’t breathe, the dentist stopped, mid-operation. the money had run out and i was thankful. thankful i couldn’t feel the pain in my teeth because the creditors had already taken me. my soul was a has been.

then, as i traced my path through my gums to my impending death from infection, i realized i had paid such nervous attention to my childhood that i forgot it was my chronic out of pocket expense that raised me. it was a loving parent but it kept that word until words ran out, for it was afraid to talk itself out of pocket. the word was never money although the word was money. money, like the world, you see, is an orphan. it props itself up until it slips out of pocket and then it’s suddenly gone.

RYAN BOLLENBACH is a writer and musician living in Houston. He is the online managing editor of Gulf Coast and a contributing editor of Heavy Feather Review. His writing appears in Colarado Review, Diagram, and Snail Trail Press.

Ryan passed away in May 2026.