The Beliefsale

The laying down of my life

is beginning to look like a garage sale.

As the sun rises over suburban horizons

dew is gathering on boxes of

possessiveness and dogmatism

          pre-priced

          but readily negotiable.

A blanket on the pavement

has all my individualisms

spread out, with a sign that reads

“25 cents each.”

You see

I had previously been tempted to sell a few old ideas

(if only to make room for new ones)

but today I´m selling the whole cabinet

          drawers included

          make me an offer.

Instead of buying new ideas

          to replace the old ones

          like I’ve always done

(I think I´d rather rent.)

And as for the basics

the permanent

the non-negotiables

not for sale?

A scroll on the post of my door

is more than big enough.

Author Bio:: Ted is a poet who is currently pretending to be a missionary in Paraguay. When stateside, he enjoys shopping at garage sales with his wife, Sarah. You can read about their adventures at their website, tedandsarahvoigt.org

for further reading . . .

• Thy Kingdome Come
• WHAT did you just call me?
• “…and suddenly a sound…”
• on justice
• Beat