1 gram of gold

chewing-gum sized,
the piece of gold still glinted
in the neon light of our attic.
i thought i had found a transformation.
a way out of the number curtains
that spilled over every hunger.
my mother wore a calculator 
like a lung. we honeysuckled 
on every stained-glass vision
that would paint us. the gold was
in a little plastic sleave. i held it to my chest
as i walked up noble street 
towards the farmer's market
where the pawn stand had once bought
my fingernails & the tip of my tongue.
i started to get money sick.
filled thousands of shopping carts 
in my guts. pushed them towards
radio heaven. the shop was stoic.
wore a military green hat & had a 
lopsided beard. he took the gold piece
from me. my heart, a fruit salad. 
laid the gold on the scale. 1 gram.
it seemed like so much. i did not think
i had ever witnessed so much. 
he slid the gold back to me. 
told me, "it's too small to be worth
me buying it." confused i asked him
how much he though it was worth.
"a few dollars," he said. i did not
have any more words. i took the gold
& carried it home in my pocket.
i looked at it only once before 
placing it back in the box i found it in. 
my reflection in the metal, 
briefly glorious.