I sell one bristle brushes. People
seeking two bristle brushes I send
to the guy on Amsterdam, who-s in a rush.
I may have one customer a year
for my one bristle brushes, a one-eyed
lover of tanagers, she may have
one dollar to spend in the moment
light-s neither day-s or night-s,
but one-s where infinity begins. Whoever
she is, she-s always painting barbules,
I-m always thinking, no one will notice
that they notice this, that her tanagers
move, that everything-s alive. We talk
care and feeding of the one
bristle brush. Care exists. I thrive.
A Shopkeeper-s Story
Bob Hicok
(1)
Poem topics: light, night, people, moment, year, talk, Valentine's Day, notice, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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