All the World is Full of In

 



scape’s chance,

the penny cool in the middle of your



otherwise



chaotic

palm, all creases dashing as



they’ve dashed



since you

were born, darling, I’m sure of



it, I know



the science,

have watched enough babies’



hands grow



into debtors

handing me due bronze (copper-tin) coins to



know those lines



aren’t going

anywhere. Lawless as ever, they’re



yours. Do you hear



that? It’s raining

bronze in this, my medallion city. Vegas.



Old Clark



County. I built

The Riviera with pennies stacked



Lincolns on



Lincolns just

like the one you have there, though



my Lincolns



never have

a scar on their cheek never tar



over LIBERTY’s



Y God no

my Lincolns are always fresh, well



rested &



eager to

be stacked into my tall jutty



gleaming



Palace. It’s

2018 & people like you are coming from



all over



to try to game

a piece of your own palace, to win



& win a



new life. But

I win. Every time. Lives & lives.



With out-



stretched

arms you give me everything



but the thin



debossed

lines breaking in arches across



your empty



palms. Be

calm. I am sparing you. Keep



your penny.



Keep this

glinting instressed relic



of your time.