by Jay Logsdon

The day is far from done

But the shop closes its counters.

The shelves of bullshit

Have all been bought.

People took home their stuff

And stuffed it in large boxes

Inside a huge box called a house.

What were they for?

The corn butterer,

The fizz keeper,

The crumb sucker,

And the tea cup cleaner.

What use do they have?

They fill up a box,

Or a desk,

Or a drawer,

Or even a pocket.

Piles and heaps grow

as the old is replaced

with the newly forgotten.

Dust bunnies dance

On through the day

Upon stadiums of nick nacks

That we keep without reason

The ice cream cone filler,

The vacuum cleaner cleaner,

The dog scrubber,

And the chip clipper.

What is it all for?

Where does it all go?

Why do we buy it?

Is there an inner need

For that which is frivolous?

Perhaps if people stopped buying

They would cease to exist.

Money is spent

On that which

Has no meaning

And finds itself

Soon lost upon

A pile of others sharing

The same fate.

As the piles grow

And our own

Room shrinks perhaps

We will begin to see that our

Consumerist ways are getting old

And the things we buy are growing stale

As our material world falls apart

We shall all learn to live with what we have.