Remember when the world
sparkled? How
the gods shone with polish in
bygone days,
their glistening munificence
shellacking
their golden, self-damned heavens,
layers
of enamel glossing over the nimbus
haloing you? How light afoot you gamboled
through the iridescent drifts
of that kaleidoscopic fall? How brilliantly
you played the glockenspiel &
winked
at the scherzando—& phooey! How
would you ever take a shine to
me?
The “me” reflected
everywhere,
from the Studebaker’s buff chrome bumpers
to the once popular stovepipe
hats,
back then fashioned from silver
& tin.
Against the glint of history, you
stand apart,
your face inside the coin jar ever
beaming, ever radiant to this day,
untarnished by the change waxing
over you
in a glimmering, shimmering heap.
--Matt Morris
From Nearing Narcoma, selected by Joy Harjo as winner
of the Main Street Rag Poetry Book Award
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