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I have known the relentless sorrow of pennies,

lost from their pouches, longing of pals and silver metals, 

All the misery of putrid gutters and fountains, 

Abandoned gold in foreclosed junkyard car crevices, 

Lonely wishing wells, porta potties, broken piggy banks, 

The bathroom stalls of bus stations and pool halls, 

Blessings for expired bread, books, bubblegum, 

Unvalued hand of community jars and black trays.

And lost at sea submerged deep in sand and solitude, 

Persistent copper, rust, and coin breathing old paper cups, 

Singing jingles of metal on metal, through nights of hunger, 

Clanging in beggars cups and thrown in alleys with hateful eyes, 

Painting the lonely street copper, where only the sun will reach.