in defense of gold

i know it’s unnecessary, but hear me out:

as a kid, even the gold kept in the mall

was fake. chains that would leave metallic stains

on our oversized white tees. when you’re broke,

everything you touch is artificial. our Christmas

trees: plastic. puffy coats: polyester. our dreams:

synthetic. we didn’t come up with spinning 

rims: we saw it on television. hand-me-downs.

one of my homies used to love saying:

just cuz you’re breathing doesn’t mean you’re alive.

okay. i feel that. mouthing along to MF DOOM

in my basement, i was just breathing. just playing 

karaoke. but let me show you some alchemy:

i took the steel mill smoke, car exhaust, Kix cereal, 

bootleg CDs, flea market fashion, oak trees, & the real 

eviction warnings hanging over our heads & i spun it

into something better than gold: but i still wear 

a gold chain around my neck. i like the weight.

this life: heavier than i imagined.