Tossed

An imagination spoken off the edge

of a penny selected amongst the coins

found in moonlight. Not for your pocket,

but thrown for the loss of passing seconds,

what jangles through like letters brought

to breath for someone you don' t know,

about a subject you're unfamiliar,

from a place that you've possibly been,

and come tomorrow, play out as if thoughts

forever carried by everyone never met,

for the sake of oddments kept to chance

worked with the personal given a singular name,

assignation known in nickname, a windowsill

from an old bedroom where day's grime

sloughed with nostalgic rain- brevity,

yesterday's siding in need of washing,

while now and then, openly from night sky

which the young always wish over with curfew

dreams, this mystery more tremendous

than I alone could ever want to handle.