Gluskin. wrote:
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The Dream Peddler
(( This is a little dressup I did awhile back based on a poem I wrote ))
I really like that scarf but I feel like it's covering up valuable cart space
He speaks softly
He laughs gently
He tells me stories about what he sees
Every time he closes his eyes:
Blinding lights, pools of blood,
Burning sun on stinging wounds
And he offers to sell me
A little bit of his aspiration.
A who-knows-what, a vagueness
A ripple that could be anything
From a vial on a trolley rigged up from a hospital bed
Which grinds its own organ with its squeaky wheels and creaking legs
An eerie call for all to hear
That says with without speaking,
“Dreams for sale; dreams for sale.”
Some come in little labeled vials,
Some in tall, narrow bottles
Some come in jars, suspended in fluid,
Some wrapped in swaths of green cloth,
And still others are do-it-yourself kits
With needles and thread or glass and dust.
They all look enchanting to me
As I lean into his cart.
I thought maybe they would be hopes and visions of the future,
But they all look like mysteries to me, mere possibilities
Nonetheless plentiful, nonetheless alluring
Smart and sharp and shining.
I run my fingers over each one,
Shake them up a little and watch them move,
All the while keeping an eye on his lopsided smile.
He praises every glance, every scintillation
Acting like he knows exactly which one I'll choose
From his collection of broken dreams, lost dreams, discarded dreams
And dreams that were never even found, never used,
Until he sold them for a dime to a passerby.








Users browsing this forum: Nicnova and 2 guests