If I had two nickels to rub together,
I would rub them together
Like a kid rubs sticks together
Until friction made combustion
And they burned a hole in my pocket
Into which I would put my hand
And then my arm
And eventually my whole self.
I would fold myself
Into the hole in my pocket and disappear
Into the pocket of myself, or at least my pants,
But before I did
Like some ancient star,
I’d grab your hand.