rebecca lehmann

Love In Commerce

Dressed in gold we roam

the town’s snarled edges.

Berries must be someplace,

but you’re not helping,

searching the dumps for carpet dealers –

someone to fit into every slot. 

Who could say no?

We pedal on hands and feet,

greeting each other with nods.

Hello, hello, how are you?

And how can we

move in nine directions at once?

The townsfolk are busy with seasonal activities –

pumpkins hang heavy on thistled vines,

apples drop half rotten into frosted grass.

It’s morning. Equinox.

Light slant is low, makes private shadows.

Darling, vend produce, vend eggs,

collect scraps of metal.