Five a year
For ten years.
Fifty quarters
For fifty states.
Fifty million Americans, each
Paying twelve dollars fifty.
Optimistic. Hopelessly so.
Believing their own exceptionalism.
Dreaming that their collection
Will one day
Be worth more
Than thirteen bucks.
When I held my first state quarter
Just thirty six had been released.
Not that I was any wiser,
Like all the rest l had been fleeced.
Nickel alloy, a nickel to mint.
Now it does not even glint.
Like its home, it’s lost its lustre.
In fifty years,
In what state
Will be this quarter?

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