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Sunday, July 18, 2010


by Earl J. Wilcox

      While night owls still nap,
minutes after today’s news arrives
     in my paper box,
mini-vans, sedans, clunkers cruise quietly
     into a queue
up the street where a neighbor will hold
     a moving sale today.

     Three hours before the sale starts,
wannabe buyers swig on adult sippy-cups,
     gawk at each other,
anxious to slip inside the seller’s house
     to size up a bargain
--- despite a yard sign: no sales before seven.

The Gulf oil spill still takes all headlines,
The yard sale groupies have no work,
Mama’s arthritis pains her these cool mornings
But nobody passes up a chance to walk through
A banker’s house---see how the other half lives.

Earl J. Wilcox writes about aging, baseball, literary icons, politics, and southern culture. His work appears in more than two dozen journals; he is a regular contributor to The New Verse News. More of Earl's poetry appears at his blog, Writing by Earl.