Garbage Sale

Twisting twine in tattered strands
she watches as she bends out the folds
cardboard is silk-skin anyway
it bends and breaks in the rain

And still they packed it all up so nicely
sharpied in the necessary display
names and price tags
on this American dream

But if the white fall rains
and the hillside turns to glass
who will stop to shop the cardboard aisles
and listen while they explain?

Explain
a simple statement
but she stared blankly
standing by the side of a state highway concrete shoulder of sidewalk

Sprawling figures in the grass
watching stars
ignore the hood torn right off
the headlights a mile or yards away

But could you really let me in right now
I’m trying to know
without record, without voice
imprinted tread

But knowing not knowing the time
she spat and watched him suspiciously
for any sideways glance
the torn and stained blue jeans

Finger in her hair twisting like a strand of faded twine
she spoke
I’m not here
not you

They sit out in the driveway
amidst the packaged middle class
waiting for the money to come
in

The storm boils overhead
and gives them rain
cardboard is like tarpaulin anyway
it softens and runs away

Too many trips are gone
too many Styrofoam wooden stirred cups of grain
and gin
and Columbian home brew

They are on the same street
they are the same
a twined out double line
explain

And somewhere
a man shoves a nozzle in his mouth
and drinks
he needs a shave.