Thrift Store




there is the faint 
scent of mildew 
and fabric softener
on the air

an old man sits,
sinking into a soft
brown couch

his ear to the face 
of an old wind up clock

his hand on the winder
on the back while

somewhere, someone 
squeezes a squeaky toy




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14 thoughts on “Thrift Store

    • Gosh and golly. You’re making me blush–
      Thanks T–

      It is somehow surprising to me how difficult this kind of writing is for me. Not sure why. These “situational” pieces either come to me or they don’t and I can’t figure why but If I try to do this on purpose, it just does’t work.

      • Babe Ruth always said that when he tried to hit homeruns, he couldn’t. It’s when he kept his eye on the prize, the localization of just putting the bat on the ball, that his jacks cleared the yard. I figure you should never argue with the Babe.

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