Goblin Market Final

By CBramkamp creative writing, Poetry Comments Off on Goblin Market Final

In San Francisco there is gold.

In San Francisco there is stripped copper wire.

In San Francisco ship masts litter the bay

Goblins call, chatter and unload boats with scary speed.

Mangoes, green nail polish, knives.

 

The bars served more food than bread

More drinks than only beer

The Westin Hotel and Cabaret

An Official joined them and for a crease of yellow foil

Told them new stories.

Sam knew in wine there would be truth.

 

There was no elegant solution the Official admitted

no one says that of course

they sent me out here right before.

Goblins?  The girl asked.

The Official grimaced, a practiced gesture

anyone who is different is a Goblin.

 

But you.  I’ve heard about you.

 

They all flocked to her.

A mermaid singing each to each

she sang to them.

 

The crowd chanted knowing she could

break open their world

Howling through the night

on the corner of Columbus and Fillmore

jugs of wine passed through the group.

 

The Drummer sidled up to Sam.

She’s going to need a name.

It would be good for her act Sam agreed.

The Drummer shook his head keeping his eyes fixed on the girl

The battered hat, the ragged edges of her pink tutu thin as a memory

That is no act.

 

The girl looked better – eyes shining

I’ll tell you about the great mother; you are sitting on her skin

You need to caress her more often and stop hitting.

 

I will tell you the story of the three-hour cruise

How many of us start – believing

we have only three hours and it turns into

The girl lifted her hands – a natural gesture – the crowd roars.

A lifetime?

 

She insists they throw shoes as tribute

Size 8

 

I know how it ends.  Sam patted the Drummer’s arm

And turned.

I never thought

I’d see how it begins.

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