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."
|
|
-----------------
|
Everything Must Go
|
| The Weakerthans |
