I went to the flea market today
The one on Ashby and MLK
And amid african drums and toy guns,
Catacombs of deadmen's shoes,
Cases worn from overuse
Hidden treasure peeked over
Beds and belts and books
Waiting in anticipation to be discovered,
For the gentle hands of a new lover
To cradle them in a delicate embrace
And take them from this haggard place.
This place they've called the Land of the Forgotten.
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