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Cruising strange neighborhoods following
the crudely crayoned arrows of
hand-printed homemade signs along back roads,
rolling down shady lanes, round cul de sacs
on a hunt for secondhand treasures.
Browsing odd offerings arranged outdoors,
piled on picnic tables, laid out on grass,
dusted off curios, metal, wood, plastic and glass
nestled in old cassettes, stacked next to paperbacks.
Picking through baby toys, jigsaw puzzles and baseball bats,
searching and purchasing unexpected bargains,
an anchor, a chain, a picture frame, but
once again not the thing for which I came.
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