Scavenger Hunters
I find them at garage sales
and flea markets, old people
and young couples, curiously caressing
blue bottles and cast off clothing
worn during thin or fat periods.
I meet them behind rows of 25 cent
used paperbacks perusing titles
never read. I see their bargain-hungry
eyes scan for authenticity of turquoise
ceramic water jugs as if simple vessels
of the past contain dreams of the future.
I watch as they scamper off,
treasures in hand, competing for fame
on the Antiques Roadshow. I smile
as the appraiser asks “How much did
you pay for this piece of junk?” I cry for them,
as their dreams are shattered again.
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