Rummaging around in the random assembly of pocket trinkets, I know I have a lucky penny in here somewhere. Bouncing around with neat little pebbles and lint balls, a sure-fire cure to my apathetic drudgery. I’m sure if I could just find the damn thing and toss it in a wishing well it would cease to bother me. The knowledge of it lingering in the secret heat of my jeans, brushing against my thigh with a subtle pressure, is driving me quite mad… As if I really needed a push in that direction.
It’s only worth one measly cent anyway, not really worth all the trouble or the value I attribute to it. Old habits die hard, I guess, and this is one addiction of mine I simply cannot rid myself of. Such folly to attempt to dance to such a tune, so silly to think a rainbow would be a good ride… Getting obscure again, I apologize.
So expensive, the rent is high in a priceless world and this little copper penny will get me absolutely nowhere. I am quite sentimental however, and it means more to me than it’s monetary value. You can find a really good friend in the right penny, as long as you know it is only pocket change… As long as you do not mistake it for wealth.
A smile is cheap but worth more than that one cent, and you will find a laugh can tip the scales and break the bank… It’s all in where you’re standing and what you are betting on.