Everything Must Go

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 or two to haunt you in the dark.

For a phone call from far away

with a "Hi, how are you today?",

and a sign recovery comes

to the broken ones.

A wage-slave forty-hour work week weighs

a thousand kilograms.

So bend your 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, and the outline to

a complicated dream of dignity.

For a laugh, too loud and too long.

For a place where awkward belong,

and a sign recovery comes

to the broken ones.to the broken ones.to the broken ones.

For the broken ones.

"Or Best Offer."