market of discount dreams

between the market stalls
we’ve watched fall
apart a
thousand
times;

between
legs of pine with a crack
in their
hips,
and the
weight that
gives gravity its good
name’s

a hammer

we’ve pounded with nails
looking for
answers in
walls we
most fail to keep standing.

between vendors whom
undercut and
try to
sell
livelihood from
under us

are glimmers of
homegrown ghosts we chose to
make our titans
rather
than truants kicked further
down the rungs.

between
labours of love is so much more than
dollar sums, so much should you
only sell
a single
one

young
retirement creeps into
the cards

yet your art’s
better sown
than reaped,

and you’ll be tinkering with
that stall,
haggling in
the streets
a lifetime before you
ever
clock out
longer than a week.

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3 thoughts on “market of discount dreams

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