the store
is in a crumbling strip center.
it's like a storage locker
stuffed with tall stacks
of dust-caked stuff
in danger of falling
or like an old barn in a shambles -
more junk than anything useful or pleasing,
so full, things spindly and scarred and unidentifiable
push out through the open door
to park on the hot and cracked walkway
like a blockade.
but i stop by now and again.
with 99 broken and deranged sights before me
the hundredth is a gem -