how do i get the guilt lines from my face, sorries from my wrinkles?
i can take your fingers and put them near my fingers and show you the in between:
it is the wheat penny
you can rub it and you will think of america
it is lost but it is warm and it is okay
the stalks of wheat are oxidized but triumphant, forgiving
we say together oh hello hallow wheaties
we hear her trumpets call
and we don't need to be sorry about anything
we are missing the men who take magic from young girls dress
and we know they know we think they
shouldn't be sorry about anything
we love our long lipped harborers of hearts
and we think they know we think they
should never ever ever have to be sorry
the wheat penny is a totem with variables
dali had the back of his wife
and her, her ten tiny hanging bulbs
and i wipe the silver air off antlers
and horseshoe crabs off drift wood and
i think about america
it is cold and edgy but it is nothing
and never has to be sorry
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