And sit on the roadside
Selling black velvet
And gaud-awful plush
To wandering souls.
I walk the lush spring grass
And fluffy clover
And watch them barter
Across the street.
I could stay in one place
‘Til the law came to shoo me,
Then hope that one
Of my carpets was magic,
And fly with the dandelion seeds
As the wind blows
And land where the soil was rich and damp.
I would sprout shallow roots
And play my guitar,
“Til the authorities, again with their clubs,
Broke my camp.
-jenn long
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