BJZ Poems and Musings

Since it’s summer, I’ll share this one that came out of a random stop at a summer flea market in the little town of Castile, New York. I believe I wrote it in the summer of 1982, and have not edited it since then.

Flea Market, Castile, NY

In the midst of chipped, listing rocking chairs,
Green-tinted, ancient glassware, and thin neckties,
My lazy, scanning eyes found some coats
Hanging from their nails on a post.

“Yep, they look to be right about your size,”
She said, leaping like a ghost
From the periphery of my gaze.
“Try one on – oh, oh, look at the fit!”

A maroon tweed, rich in its time,
Stretched tightly across my back.
I didn’t need one, so she led me to the hood
Of a green and faded Rambler
Strewn with sweaters, shirts, and slacks.

“These was all his, too,”
Matter of fact from her
Lined and bartered face.

I stopped in my tracks – was?
A black cardigan, shoved over my arms;
Her baggy eyes devoured a form not my own.
She smiled through yellowed teeth:
“Seven dollars with the plaid trousers.”

I declined and strode away, pausing
To note the very black wick on a kerosene lamp,
And my slumping figure in a marked-down mirror.

Brian J. Zink

Note: Copyright protections apply