One Man's Trash

One Man’s Trash
Christopher Bogart

What if luck was with you for just one day
when you stopped at your dream garage sale.

As you rummage around a mound of what appears to be junk,
what if you discover a miniature Van Gogh, just a little one,
buried deep in the heap on the asphalt below?

How about a more modest discovery,
a brass hurricane lamp, just the right kind,
for a place of pride in your dining room window?

Or a first edition of Dickens,
an Austen perhaps, or even a Shakespeare first folio
to add to your meager collection?

I always thought a sturdy oak desk,
like the ones that once graced a bank president’s office,
you know, one you could land a B42 on, would be a fine find.

Or a faded leather wing back chair with a more than fair sticker price.
That would be nice.

Or a marble bust of a famous writer, composer or minor Greek deity
would qualify as a real good buy.

Yeah. What if you happened upon the garage sale of your dreams,
Where ever item for sale was not as it seems,
instead of the kind that we always seem to find,
with no more than what we have come to expect:
a collection of mismatched cups,
a set of promotional drinking glasses,
and a stack of faded magazines, sure proof that
one man’s trash isn’t always another man’s treasure?