A garage full
Of things that
Could be important
I missed the era when euphemisms, metaphors, and, even, mixed metaphors proliferated. It took creativity to come up with some of them–blind hogs, acorns; horses led to water; the art of catching flies with honey, instead of vinegar. People talked around things instead of going straight for the jugular.
It was a dreamlike state–watching silent movies with captions. For some odd reason–I knew when it would rain. What to do when people ran out of crutches to lean on? What would bowling on the moon be like?
You would be surprised to learn–as I was. Prognosis, everyone was waiting for payday–it was only Wednesday. The diagnosis was hypnosis. What was that out the window? It was a fog bow. And, you didn’t know? Open another box of “try not to act surprised.”
Nothing much has changed. Discarded items replaced by other useless things. A second glance at a post from two years ago.
Some, barely started
Rumpled, forlorn, forgotten
Behemoth, stone-age electronics
Temporary dog fence
No longer made sense
Things bought for five bucks
Supposed to work–never did
Clothes from the eighties
When girls had big hair
Were clueless in Beverly Hills
My first guitar with broken strings
Propped up with the other things
Billy Bass, sass and crass
Pet rock, singing bird clock
Perhaps I’m too sentimental?
Inanimate objects can’t think or talk
Mood ring, get in line–take a walk