from an old creaking store-front
in a row of many others
each stocked with man, woman, candy, and woven or wooden crafts.
(of their own hands, probably)
with faces, eager but friendly
for seasonal sales and lugubrious
lingerers.
Back of each front, store
doors swing in for haste.
barterers' shelves, sturdily-built
so that stores and supplies bemoan
their differences,
a cleaning bottle, damp rag,
and more candies--strawberryfresh
as could be.
a ponytail weaves her way through
the fronts, the booths.
She is a spurious Coin-giver
because she bobs her hair in dreams
about thin-strapped Sequins
and humid markets
that produce economic Produce.
but she is Plain and
as many booths
that candy-over whims
are people that
rot in the back rooms.
(Berkeley Naught One)