I am so sedimental, but
the subtle differences between me and the crumbles of earth
are growing overwhelmingly stale.
when rocks are crushed, they are used to build up roads and homes.
things unknown to me.
those who collect these gems uncovered by time
will sometimes worship even earth’s smallest private parts,
carrying them around, close like a golden tick,
but there is no joy in keeping the crumbs of what was
at the most
a half grown, tiresome treat.
toss me into the water, drawn in by my flat surface and smooth curves
and watch me catch a breeze and sink to the bottom.
i’m no good at skipping, but it’s okay
because you’ll find another at the edges of the earth.