All
eyes
on the
countertop,
Salvation Army
merchandise: slick wicker woven
Easter baskets with artificial grass 50 years—
a half century ago; moths settle on sallow, antique lampshades, calf skin tightly
wrapped around the bells, askew, atop tarnished brass poles
rightly placed in creepy corners;
carved baroque bookshelves,
cast off by
Gen-X
lads
lost
in
their
witless
love affair
with plumb ugliness;
music box ballerinas turn
deftly, pirouetting en pointe, crackled salt shakers,
plastic boots, silk brassieres an array of colors & sizes; where else might evidence
lockers unload perfectly good clothes, bath towels, shoes,
or forensic file cabinets
filled with cold cases?
Second hand
goods seem
first
class.