Poem #138 of 365

I dream of bathing
in dimes, shiny
and cold, in summer
heat, buried in coins.

The monetary value
is not what I crave,
nor to lap at luxury
to pose or impress.

Instead, it's the din
of thin dimes crashing
in waves, smooth metal
on flesh, the sensual surge.

Perhaps too a cure for
arthritis, to swim in 10 cents,
and to waste not the water
for rinses and soaks.

To feel all the metal
abrading my skin and
sleeking me smooth
as a shimmery snake
or a moonlit miser.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez