Ever wonder about an insignificant penny, hidden in your pocket?
The Penny, coarse and flat,
Feels cool between my fingers,
It keeps my hand company in a
Dark Empty Pocket.
I found it there as I walked to class.
No doubt the result of dryer magic.
Like an electron, easily missed,
Free to appear wherever it likes.
I hold it tight between my thumb and index finger
Feel its ridged reality
But I know that soon my mind will wander
And the penny will disappear.
I would never spend it.
I wouldn’t think to save it either.
Another will come along easily enough.
And yet, like the brilliance of a midnight epiphany,
Soon I will not remember the penny.
It will drift from my mind.
Where did I place it?
Was it ever here at all?
It seems absurd to think.
But like so many tiny things
It takes focus to keep it here.
But that is later.
I don’t care to dream of dollars
The countless many
That propel me through life.
The Penny is now warm against my hand
Comfortably wrapped in a cotton cocoon
Born to the world,
Phasing into time from some dreamless place.
Kissed by my thumb it leaps,
A metallic flip in the morning light,
Faded Lincoln, 1999.