garage sale. saturday.
i need to pay my heart's outstanding bills.
a cracked-up compass and a pocket watch,
some plastic daffodils,
the cutlery and coffee cups i stole from all-night restaurants,
a sense of wonder (only slightly used),
a year of two to haunt you in the dark,
a wage-slave forty-hour work week
(weighs a thousand kilograms, so bend you knees)
comes with a free fake smile for all your dumb demands,
the cordless razor that my father bought when i turned 17,
a puke-green sofa, the outline to a complicated dream of dignity,
and a laugh (too loud and too long).
for a place where awkward belongs,
or a phone call from far away with a "hi, how are you today",
and a sign that recovery come to broken ones.
or best offer. |