coin slip

pounding pounding, whirling stars;

around my head,  with etched scars

throw and  stack me in a booty bag,

for carry on what they call the bank.

hand giveth paper,  hand taketh me

I dangle perilously, in pocket of thee

as friends keep shilling, till gone is me;

as the hand giveth me to another thee.

 you flip me like I am on a trampoline,  

and call out, just to decide on some;

ignore as I leave you, don’t give a bean

for I come and go, and go and come.

they have a math dedicated to me,

silly of them, for its whimsy of me;

but you are you, chance is chance

you dance on little, on my dance.

some keep me ever, I say ridiculous

let go of me, you moron and let go;

let me flip and slip and kip about;

bounce and bounce and skip around.

tossed when new, saved when old

much better than what you get;

crap, I fell down hard and tumbled,

rolling along, the road is rough;

I am here, in scrap yard friends,

here I come; picked after eons,

pounding pounding, whirling stars;

around my head,  with etched scars.