It seems a lot of time has passed
pursuing life at breakneck paces
we crane our necks and look
down at crowded streets
and all those vacant spaces
Where dust and free papers collect
in shrinking gaps between what
makes us human and
the listless thrashings of machines
Today I found a penny
in one of those gaps
wedged between a curb and tire
I stopped and saw myself
reflected in that penny
almost worthless
one of many
I looked around and kicked it loose
the copper sprung and beamed its verges
navigating storm drain girders
darting through the spokes of riders
blinding unsuspecting drivers
Staring down train operators
ripping open bags of noodles
bouncing off the tags of poodles
splitting skulls and chipping phones
scratching watches, breaking bones
bursting open rings of doves
shining over those it loves
Embedding itself into crevasses
behind the visible
beyond the thinkable
across from that which is of use
it seems to ask
what is joy but the debt of many?
what is life but a foundling penny?