Fountain

There again was the familiar sound
of rushing water,
pouring from concrete figures,
and cascading down
into a wide basin that has seen better days
in the hands of more delicate and careful
denizens and fortune-seekers.

There again was the glint
of dulled copper, silver and
sometimes, gold that shone through
the choppy, leaf-and-dust-strewn surface,
signaling the thousands and thousands of souls
that have given up these coins,
not for a wish to be granted,
but to be given hope in things
mundane or morbid.

As kids, we used to say
that we would avoid
wasting away our lives
in front of this fountain,
in the hope that we wouldn't
need to wish for anything.
That we'd have everything
we ever aspired to achieve.

Look at where we are now.

I'm here, alone,
broke as hell,
and you're off a thousand miles away,
probably in the same situation.

Sacrificing coins to gain
an intangible something
that will fill the void
and make you feel
whole and good again.