yard sale

bargain
hunting is not your thing.
never would you
stop at a flea
market, a yard sale,
a parking lot
where others are sitting
out with the junk
they no longer want,
prices pinned
to sleeves, and dresses,
shoes, and old cd's.
you have enough junk of
your own.
enough tvs
you never watch, a pool
table where you
stack the folded
clothes.
you don't need another
poorly painted
seascape,
or weed wacker with
a broken string,
or half empty cans
of paint.
old toaster ovens with
crumbs still in them.
rakes and brooms, floppy hats.
no.
all day they sit.
the gabby women and squirrely men,
eating donuts drinking coffee.
seeing you
pass by in the morning,
coming home
that afternoon, hoping
that you'll stop
and have three dollars
to spend.