He’s one of those slugs that works in all kinds of vending machines. I’m a beat-up quarter that keeps falling unrecognized through the slot.

Make that two quarters, a cent for every year I’ve been trying to work things out here on earth, figure out how to ask and receive, give and receive, get back what’s been taken or at least get receipts.

Throw in four pennies if we’re being honest about my age. Four more metallic years in my mouth, parts of me no longer in production but somehow loose here in Utah like moqui marbles coated in iron-oxide concretions but still just sand in the middle.

I want you to hear the wind the way I do, which is with my whole body. I want you to imagine you have a personal relationship with the mitochondria you lug around and think about how they make you who you are. I want you to start perceiving closely and feeling deeply because you can.

I’m here to tell you you can. You can tell a quarter from a slug, the weight of it, the relief, the ridges along the edge that catch on your thumbnail or leave a little pattern if you roll them in sand. Tiny unicycle. First wheel. Moon touching land and refusing to let go.

You can tell a human’s a human even when they’re dinged in places and rubbed smooth in others.

It’s easy to make a slug into anything, anyone. Do the hard work. Use what you have. Your mouth. Your skin. Your nose. Say cheekbone. Say ponytail. Say suprasternal notch. There you go.

A slug can fool you, but you don’t have to be fooled. You have more wisdom inside you than you’ll ever know.

Anyone who can slide into any slot may not be what you think they are. Before long, you’ll have a coin box full of cheap metal, and you’ll be searching for quarters the way kids look for moqui marbles in the desert.

Did I mention you’re the vending machine in this essay? You’re the vending machine. I’m 54 cents. The slug I mentioned has already slid through your coin receptor so many times you’ve been left with nothing but empty coils. You keep mistaking him for what he isn’t, keep seeing the world in his blank face.