Tuesday, September 1, 2020

the farmer's market

there is  desperation
felt
as you walk through the narrow
aisles and tents,
fast  constructed
stands
full home made
bread
and pastry, tomatoes
off the vine.
cucumbers,
green and crooked
from
some back yard
garden.
you ponder a jar of
pickles.
holding it up to the sun.
nine dollars
seems excessive, but the man
on the chair, with his
cane.
his dog,
his wife beside him
too large to stand,
says
okay, okay. two for
the price of one.

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