The Farmers Market
As I sit on the fragile cracks
Between reality and fantasy
Where a homeless penniless man
Is more saintly than a priest
Cultures destroyed in the name
of organic grass feed kambocha
Seeking out validation of a duplication
Through the note in your wallet
Nothing original resides in this space
I find another just like it if I about face
We speak of movements of love
As we stand where some sleep
These unwanted undesired
shooed from the feast
What you seek to find
Will not be found in this booth
Simply cross the street
discover the truth
Take in a breath of the
filth they polished and cleaned
Let's speak again of your movement
for animals for dogs for homeless unseen
Oil my bread to move all my cogs
Fill my heart to raid my pocket
What's this here a crystal turned locket
I'll buy your wood bowl
your rings made of spoons
Show me something new
and you'll depart with my heart
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