Loose Change

In vanity we squandered all our magic moments
(subway singers singing subway songs,
the doors opening as we step to the elevator,
your name on a random cafe sign);
they all seemed like loose change on the street:
dispensable, inevitable, a symbol of some greater fortune.
Not to be bent for, and dusted, and kept,
not to be saved for a rainy day,
not be put in the porcelain doll we got at the fair,
so that when it's broken,
it would not be in vain.