Change

The whites are spinning in the heat,

a heavy, tumbling sound of steam.

I’m standing on my tired feet

within the fluorescent, buzzing gleam.

It slipped out from the denim fold,

a flat and cold and metal spark.

Too small for any hand to hold,

it rolled away into the dark.

A nickel lost beneath the hum,

beside the grease and gathered lint.

The concrete floor is cold and numb

where the metal lost its glint.