At an intersection between confusion and grandiosity
rag people take unscheduled turns into “No Outlet,”
rummaging through trash cans and dumpsters,
wander into the bazaars of thrift stores and flea markets
to salvage yesterday’s costumes for dress up
in black bowlers, canes, 20’s hats festooned with
paper flowers, shaggy shawls, ankle length dresses,
Art Deco sunglasses, oversized dangling earrings
These harlequins of the byways wander willy-nilly
in their freedom to be odd, whispering to themselves
along boulevards of large cities, fiercely guarding
new found marvels in large paper sacks, one in
each hand, eyes on the lookout for pirates and police
Motorists hurtling past sidewalk oracles pushing
stolen grocery carts stuffed with homemade lifetimes
will one day want their grandchildren to have what is
hidden in those bundles of the collected self but they
don’t know it yet, smirk smugly instead to themselves
they really don’t give a damn
They hold their steering wheels tight, eyes fixed
between dotted lines leading outside city limits
into cul-de-sacs where leaves are always raked,
doors always locked against what startling spectacles
are soon to cartwheel down the dead end streets that
guard them against the strange and vast unknown