a day

She read
the start of
one of my poems.

I went
home and cried.

/

If you
put your hand
on my heart, you
will feel the pulse of
a body that hates its
occupant.

/

I found
my grandmother's typewriter
and with it, I
will write of the loved
and the loveless.

/

I found
a penny on
the street and turned
the head side up so that
someone can be luckier
than I.