Tables roughly set,
All the junk I can find
Set out haphazardly
A mad woman’s breakfast, you might say.
At dawn, they begin to assemble
The junk dealers, predators
Looking for a free bargain,
If they can get it.
Haggling over the silliest things
Want something for nothing
Watch for the pilferers.
Grandma’s old vase, cracked and crazed
Still partially covered in sixty years of dust
Has a presence it hasn’t entertained in so long
The buyers understandably ignore it
I was thinking it would go in a flash
But no at days end it sits alone on the far table
Just as its always done,
Neglected, lonely, making a statement
No idea what,
“Grandma had poorer taste than I thought?”
No matter what we got rid of stuff
People happy to pay to take away my crap.