Everything Must Go!

Garage Sale, Saturday, I need to pay my heart's outstanding bills

A cracked-up compass and a pocket watch, some plastic daffodils

The cutlery and coffee cups I stole from all-night restaurants

A sense of wonder, only slightly used, a year or two to haunt you in the dark

For a phone call from far away

With a "Hi, how are you today"

And a sign "recovery comes to the broken ones"

A wage-slave forty-hour work week, weighs a thousand kilograms

So bend your knees, comes with a free fake smile for all your dumb demands

The cordless razor that my father bought when I turned 17

A puke-green sofa and the outline to a complicated dream of dignity

For a laugh, too loud and too long

Or a place where awkward belongs

And a sign "recovery comes to the broken ones"

To the broken ones

To the broken ones

For the broken ones

Or best offer