Zach fled Helena to be born again
in black and silver piercings,
no gold adorns his head.
He speaks in bell-like tones
of Missoula's underbelly, unafraid
to walk those alleys
born from silver, lumber, railroad
spikes, not gold-bricked streets like Helena,
its gold-specked dawns and gold-streaked noons,
its golden bells that only ring
for fellows born to gold.
Born without a golden belly button,
Zach now calls Missoula home.
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