Treasure is in the Eye

Treasure is in the eye of the beholder.

He’s heard that somewhere, he thinks.

Or something like that.

A mayonnaise jar,

kept high on a shelf.

On the highest shelf.

Every Saturday he counts.

On lucky days

he adds a crusty coin to his collection.

Rusty discs,

bigger than a quarter

but not as weighty.

Words are barely discernable;

Bud Light, Corona, Pacifico.

The currency of a college economy.

Once, he found a pile of actual quarters,

just lying there

on the side of the road.

They were scattered among the gravel

and spent dandelions,

gleaming in the late September sun.

He filled his pockets,

then used his hat to carry more.

His mother called the neighbors, worried he was a thief.

Some would say those were treasure.

But he would say treasure is for adventures.

Those coins were used to buy new school shoes.

So far, there seems to be no interest

in the collection in the jar.

This treasure won’t spend.

Copyright 2019 – Laurie Marshall

This poem is being posted as part of the #100dayproject. Find out more here.