Poem - Good Junk

GOOD JUNK

Cleaning the silver jewelry
outside on a summer day.

The tarnish yielding
to an almost white shine.

I look at the ring I bought when I was 12,
and have had repaired at least a dozen times
(because I'm really too rough
to wear delicate things).
It's been with me a long, long time
since I discovered it in a $2 pile
at a local thrift shop.

And then, the pendant
that was actually an earring
discovered in a box of junk
my dad decided
was good enough to be picked up
and picked through.

It was black with tarnish
and had no mate,
but I saw the Many Goats signature on the back
and knew that meant
something.
As did the beauty
of the stones
that spoke to me
through layers of grime.

I polished the earring
then broke it apart
(because it had no mate)
and strung it on a necklace.
I wore that necklace during winter months
when I was sure I'd spend the summer ones
in Teec Nos Pos, Arizona

I ended up in Helsinki instead
Blown just a little off course
from the American deserts
to the edge of the Baltic Sea
(and the edge of
a lot of other things as well.)

But I've always had a knack for
veering off course.
Just like I've always had a knack
for changing the shape of something.
And being able to see
beyond the tarnish
to the white shine.

I slip the necklace on
It's cold against my skin
I'll wear it in the summer months
and wonder what winter will bring...