DISCARDED PROOF… Thrift Shop Poetry


Howdy… up waaay too early this morning.  gulp the coffee.  What is it about Spring that feels so busy and busy?  Ya know?  I’m filled with things to say and do and write about.  To stay centered in some darn thing or another, I’m gonna grab on to one of my Thrift Shop poetry pics and dive into that this morning.  So. there

 

Ordered jumble of discarded proof

That you really did wear that once

YOu did and now some wayward

treasure hunter considers the worth of it

for the pleasure of cheap and recycled

 

Fondles and sniffs at it like a dog hopeful

Holds it up for full viewing and even

lays it on their body hanger and all

tilting their head left to right before the

strip of mirror that say “Oh ya, good find.”

 

The thing is, is that you dropped that box

of old clothes and god knows what all

at the back door donation depository

and marched yourself around to the  front

door to gather and sniff like every other

hound on the make all hopeful for

another good piece.  Who cares what the

 mirror says. 

 

There is that breathless moment when

you enter and gaze at the vast grocery 

of un-eatables at least in any traditional 

sense cause you will be consuming 

someone else’s leftovers and forage

like a monkey in heat for just the right 

junkers pleasure that some fool surely 

didn’t know what they were ridding themselves of.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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