Goblin Market Part II

By CBramkamp creative writing, Poetry Comments Off on Goblin Market Part II

She knew she couldn’t stay another day.

Sam finished his beer. How old?

Fifteen

Shit, thought you were 18

They all want me to be 18

We do  he agreed.

He helped her order everything that was left.

 

California, he announced to her and the empty dishes

Sam unfolded a large map, a complex origami project.

This goes back to when it was terribly normal

to drive forever, cars blackened the country

Like buffalo –

 

It will take a few seasons, he cautioned

Gold Coast, Swimming Pools, Movie Stars

South is faster, you sure?

She knew about seasons – swimsuit season, flu season

 

He scooped up a computer, three loaves of hard bread

and the girl: top hat, leg warmers and a pink tutu

 

Once they cleared the domino buildings

the sun, a basketball orange suspended mid-dribble

on an intractable asphalt sky

motioned them to follow its everyday death.

 

They encountered others – anyone with only a few things

to carry, escaped the quickest

some survived, although they didn’t know it at the time

traveling west served as a last act of defiance.

 

She told Sam stories

to fill in the silent trudging towards the flaming sun

how she felt trapped between buildings

that squeezed daylight into switch blades of light

 

the Goblins yelled from the shadows

back and forth, trading an persimmon for an apple

Buy, buy, buy

Don’t be afraid her mother ordered

but don’t eat.

 

hand size strawberries,

cantaloupes the size of her head

buy buy buy the Goblins

dressed in same kind of clothes and shoes

as she –

Her mother

wore fantastically high platform boots

swayed from booth to booth in her short dress

An uncertain tulip, the stalk too weak to hold up the head

 

buy buy buy.

Computers glowed at the stalls; displaying web sites with stories,

tiny children held up gigantic strawberries

grapes, bananas, it’s all good, grinned the Goblins,

all organic. Natural. Certified.

 

No, no we will find the cans. Her mother said

dragging the girl from the fruit.

We’ll find the kind already

chopped up into bite size

bits and pieces, stored in aluminum recycle, reuse, reduce

they pushed the cans home in metal carts with broken wheels.

 

now the metal carts are filled with bodies.

Bring out your dead.

Did they eat the fruit, the dead?

By the time she knew, it didn’t matter

and the Goblin market was gone.

  • Share:
Visit Us On TwitterVisit Us On FacebookVisit Us On Google PlusVisit Us On YoutubeCheck Our Feed