Spring Cleaning

Yard sales bloom
like dandelions:
ubiquitous, invasive,
yet somehow
charming.
Neighbors litter
their lawns
with clothes that
don’t quite fit,
furniture that’s
functional though
slightly chipped,
impulse buys
that can’t be returned.
By Sunday afternoon,
their pockets
are full and
their basements purged.

If only it were
so easy to rid
ourselves of
other blunders:
here, have these
values I’ve
outgrown,
these words I
can’t take back,
these dreams,
slightly tarnished
but still good.

All yours, for just
pennies on the dollar.