you were born in Denver during a white out blizzard
like all round babes, you had no clue, what was in store for you you couldn't have known...
you would be the last nickel to ***** through a five-cent coin phone box, in El Paso, Texas
or that you would sleep for a year in a piggy bank, of a boy named Felipe, who would die of white blood cancer, before he could spend you
and who would have thought you would be in the linty pocket of a serial murderer named Ray, when he was captured in Santa Fe, a sunny day on the ancient square, stalking his next victim
a jailer used you that very night with a twin of yours he found in another picked pocket, of a drunk drifter, to buy a Hershey's bar, from a machine that would have taken a dime as well
your face began to show the fingered signs of age by the time the choppers found sky above the Saigon Embassy, where you had spent an aching April night in the Ambassador's pants
when you turned a half century, you were tossed into a gallon jug, e pluribus unum, no more special than others a third your vintage
I finally met you today, only because chance landed you on the top of the heap, waiting to be saved from further folly