the pop-up yard sale occurs
every other week and i’m not
quite sure where this group
of gypsies gathers their goods
for sale, but the wardrobe of
nightgowns and shower caps
surely has me intrigued.
i park my car off to the side
next to the discolored red and
rusty pick-up truck, thinking in
the back of my head that maybe,
just maybe, i’ll be one of those lucky
fucks that finds an original Picasso or Dali.
two hours of digging through germ
infested materials, nothing of which
produces a cent of interest to me or
my knowledge of antiques, leads me
to throw up on the table of broken electronics.
who knows…maybe those electronics
will eventually be worth something one day
because of my vomit; who am i to predict the future.