find a penny, pick it up

i snub at the fact that you saw us
breaching over vertical crowds.

he’s now rubbing pennies together
for coppers infertility; a treatment
to inspiration,
for inspiration
                                        –lost–
on the streets,
on sidewalks,
on clayed pathways riding under our feet

                    (he could never recognize me).

  and i accept
for exception
       of a flip between bars;
         these columns raised
                    by a question of sanity
                        or irised grandiosity
                                        where greek myths
                                         ruled the architect
of my mind.

necks turn in profile.
useless as dimes….

good luck or
good fortune
is
picked
        up
     (one cent at a time).

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About Robyn

"If you haven't known insanity, you haven't lived."
This entry was posted in Recovery (USA). Bookmark the permalink.

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