Poet’s Nook: "Look What It’s Come To" by Johnathan Lowe

I wanted things once. Was told to.
Now that I’ve retired from waiting on people wanting things
I see the illusion, the delusion.
It is the clearest thing left to see in the world.
You can’t own anything. Not land, not piles of brick
Nor the woman next to you.
       Everyone at the mall will  learn this too one day
       Some know now. On occasion these meet my eyes passing…
       Former paper pushers, ledge keepers. We exchange secret knowledge
       without a smile. Or with a wry one!
       Before walking past a bin of B-movies piled high at Wal-Mart,
       an old man gave me such a smile by which he meant:
       look what it’s come to.

       I know. I know.



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