I swear I was just out to get a cheap shot-- that's right, Cheap. C-H-E-A-P. Mind you, I'm not a cheap shot myself, but my head was feeling leveled so I decided to empty out my pocket of its Change. Not that change, the other thing. I wish they would do away with pennies. They're so useless and they weigh you down so much. They're only pennies. But man do we manage to collect a lot of them. Most of the time we don't even want them. Damn pennies. But they're there, building up in our pockets and weighing us down. And you would think that by spending them, getting rid of them, would lighten the load. It doesn't. Because all those little pennies, those precious, shiney copper coins, those dirty, finger-printed coins, add up to so much in the end; it's amazing how much they're worth in the end and because they are a burden, we trade them out and spend them because we can; because we think it's better that way. So I was talking to a friend when they took a cheap shot. That's right, cheap. C-H-E-You know the rest. My gut was punched and I felt "gross" and then I remembered the feeling of "different". I reintroduced myself to the meaning of "replacement". dime for nickels, dollars for cents; none of it makes sense, of course, because that was then and Then was stupid and Now I'm Smart. So they tell me. Truth is, there are certain things about those pennies that I miss. Maybe it's the dates. Every year, month, and moment of those pennies. They really add up. Or maybe it's the hand that touched them; the single fingerprint that left a mark. Or even the way it went from me to them, to me again. I sure do miss those damned pennies, weighing me down, filling me up, Damn those bastard pennies. I would regenerate them all if I could I think; But that would be against the law, against reason, against logic; against love. Hello dollar. Carrie Caulfield