When We Are Cleaned and Shine

​When we are cleaned and shine
Like buttons, a kind
Of glow that goes beneath 
The surface of the mind

And we are filled with surf 
Roar joy that wells 
At midnight, and we grow
Wealthy in the suitcases of our cells,

The fear of Parkinson’s disease,
The suffering that could be eased
By drifting into Canadian snow
And the heavy coin of the heart seized

By not having enough, and
The end that came too soon, before
It could be done right, are met
With light upon the roaring shore.