Sidewalk copper

Face down, it was, near the curb,

outside the laundromat, a dull gleam.

Lincoln's back, a slight perturb

once you saw it, waking from a dream

of indifference. Pressed into a crack,

asphalt swallowing its edge.

I kept walking. No looking back.

Bending down felt like a pledge

I wasn't ready for, for a copper coin.

But the guilt, it sparked, a tiny heat,

a flicker, the thought of what I might rejoin

if I just reached for something so complete

in its worthlessness. A dark, wet stain

next to it, like a tear in the rain.