For Sale

another day For Sale
you wake uneasy in a
continuum’s innocuous
inconsistency – attempt
to count odds and make
disparate ends meet

hung-over from weeks of
self-denial cleaning benches
before breakfast massages
insecurity – like eccentricity
plied as irony in lieu
of a public trial

vestigial clinging to
whatever poisoned the
water may cause sniffles
and endemic wheezes;
you dismiss this as
asthmatic irrelevance

yet in lack of a decree
without doubt regressive
judgement means being
For Sale places past in
jeopardy of a future
badly worn out
© 2 May 2011, I. D. Carswell