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Spare Change

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All that we’re going to be
Is the excess
That we forced in our pockets
Left behind in dirty theaters
sounded like spare change
we didn’t give to homeless man
the junk
that we don’t talk about
pretend we don’t notice
that hid in mothball eaten sweaters
that were grandmother's
prize over knee length ruffles
red lipstick
we call tacky
and suddenly
we know?
We know about stunted lives
rotted in dirty sewers
Next to stinking homeless man
Whose pockets sound empty
Of spare change that was our excess.




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