Beyond Merchadise                                

BEYOND MERCHANDISE                                        photo: "Point Pinole" by Rody Luton 

Outside my window shopping carts go by filled with

the recycled goods I often cling to—drug addicts, drunks,

psychotics pushing their bottles and cans up this rancid block

that passes for a highway, their damn wheels rattling like

squeaky hips, all night and day. Naturally if I go out to talk

to them—stare into their eyes—what I get is battlefield,

a land of severed limbs trying to regroup while this deadbeat

inside my head sings the blues that would turn into carols

if those limbs ever did fit back together—mine and theirs—

amid the exhale of putrefaction, which would be the smell

of the Lord's body too...if He were every really found.



 © Eliot Schain