Posts Tagged ‘yardsailing’

yard sale

WHATCHA LOOKIN’ FOR?
By David Allen

Cruisin’ slow through the neighborhood,
Causing my passenger to mutter,
“Whatcha lookin’ for, some sign from God?”

Nah, I’m lookin’ for
A sign for a yard —
Sale, that is,
Some place where I can rummage
Through someone else’s life,
Examine the pieces of their past,
Old books with broken spines
And underlined passages
That once meant more
Than the 25 cent sticker
Pasted on the cover’s corner;
Maybe a video in a format
Almost as forgotten as
The romantic night on the couch
Munching more than popcorn;
Or a toolbelt retired
From the job at the shuttered mill
In the aging town with overgrown lots
As empty as the old lady’s eyes
As she sells frayed towels in faded colors
And her creaking rocker.
The grandchildren she sang to sleep are gone.
What else might I find?
Maybe a dented bicycle helmet,
Reminder of a scary night in the ER;
Fishing gear sold by the wheelchair
Bound diabetic amputee;
Cookbooks with place holders
Marking recipes long forgotten
By the widow who dines alone.

Yeah, I’m lookin’ for a yard sign marking
Some place with memories for sale,
Some place where I can lose myself
In someone else’s dimming past
As I run away from my own.

NOTE: Schedulding our first major yardsailing trip thie weekend with my Muse. Reminded me of this poem I wrote a few years ago.

Yardale books

OBSERVATIONS ON A YARDSAILING TRIP
By David Allen 

Sitting in the car
While my wife examines
Yard Sale treasures,
I jot down words
I hope become a poem. 

Earlier, we drove by a young man
Walking down the street
With both hands inside
The front of his pants,
Which sagged below his waist.
Couldn’t he afford a belt? 

Faded American flags
Hang in front of homes
In sore need of a
Fresh coat of paint. 

I am writing this
In a notebook
I bought in Japan.
On the cover it states,
“It is our hope
That this item will
Become your good friend
And help make your life
Enjoyable all the time.”
I hope it does. 

I stay in the car
While my muse barters
With the Yardsellers.
I work crossword puzzles
To fill the time when
Writer’s block stalls
The poem’s progress.
Maybe a word up or down
Will fill the blanks. 

Suddenly, my wife
Excitedly opens the car door
And shows me a “find.”
“Look at this forgotten treasure,”
She says. “Cost a dollar.”
It is a copy of the first book
Ever published by Simon and Schuster
“A Cross Word Puzzle Book.”
I’m puzzled it is for sale
And not on some rare books list.

Well, you may think
This poem doesn’t
Make any sense.
That’s okay
Give me two pennies
And it will.