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.
