Wednesday, June 05, 2013

The Collector

You find a Hawaii quarter in the parking lot
outside your job and decide to collect every state.
You start by only sorting through the change
you get each day, but before long
you’re at the bank trading in twenties
and hundreds, spending afternoons and weekends
pawing through grimy tupperwares full of coins
and wading around in fountains
at the mall. You call your friends and tell them
to be on the constant lookout out for Idaho and the Dakotas.
Your wife leaves you, your daughters
break off all contact, you quit your job
and sell your clothes and start holding up coffee shops
for their tip jars.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Nice poem. I like how it escalates so ridiculously.

After 7 years, does anyone know who the Vanquisher of Anonymousness was?

Anonymous said...

good to see you .

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