Give to gather, gather to give.

Sometimes you find little treasures like this at garage sales or at thrift stores and you hold it close to you, square up against your chest, until you've put those few dollars in the curve of someone's palm. And then suddenly, it's all yours. You tuck it under your arm and time passes along with the cars until you're standing on some chair with a nail and a hammer in your two paws. You pierce that flat wall and hang up your treasure like the Mona Lisa. Days fill your days with more days and before you know it, you've got them stacked up in your memory like used milk jugs that you've convinced yourself you'll find a use for someday. In the core of this sahara of sour smelling plastic containers, one has a little bit of liquid time left at the bottom and crusted around the mouth where the cap pops off. This time pulls you back to your Mona Lisa day and you swing your glance like a baseball bat up to where that treasure is fastened to your wall. Your index fingers partner with your thumbs to peel it from it's location like tree bark and import it to your lap. And you sit there, neck arched and cheeks heavy as you clench and cradle and cherish your framed fortune. And you feel exceedingly fine.