Coins

Loose change is useful when there are non-decimal elements in the mix
A full One can entirely change the nature of the pile
Even compared to a heap of quarters
The metal currency hides that fact of the farce
Because maybe instead we trust preciousness
Rather than the whims of a few bankers and crowds
But I don't know anything about money, obviously
But I do know what coins feel like
And they feel like moments from any moment
I might have a cup of coffee in my hand
Unless they are dimes or pennies
In which case, I'm years from even having something useful
For the beginning of the end was when the coins lost their value
Because the beginning was the minty freshness of shininess
And the end is the toothpaste tube with chocolate flavored paste
That can only be bought with ones and zeroes
Stored somewhere far away
Not exactly controlled by anyone
But deployable at a moments uncounted notice
And leaving a sweet taste in the mouth
A sweetness that cannot be satisfying
Because it's supposed to have done cleaning
But it tastes like a hot beverage, lukewarmed
Yet where can one go, for a hot beverage on a hot day?
With four hundred pennies, to any given street corner
For a cup of countable coffee