to the farmer's
market.
a few tables are up.
a few so called farmers
are bundled
in their hats
and scarves.
they don't smile
as you approach.
it feels like the dust bowl
of the 1930's.
their wares are thinned
down
to almost nothing.
tomatoes. lettuce.
apples. a six dollar
cup
of coffee, donuts.
i shuffle through the thin
coat of snow
on the ground.
and go home.
empty handed.
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