dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: pocket change

she sells
butterfly shadows
and handfuls of
cantaloupe strings
in a summertime stand
just off the fringe
of highway dust
and blurry pavement heat

she gypsy flings
earnings to
the breeze until
sound brushes through
her hair like wind chimes,  
dimes roll from pocket seams
like dreams,
not missed
unremembered

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Sometimes we kid ourselves,
Reaching like stray
Hairs and lint tufts
For the pocket change
We gave to the fountain long ago.

We wished smiles well
With a blind coin toss,
Forgetting that
Copper heads bite
And chase us in dreams.