DEARBORN GOODWILL

every year I do this 
I write a Goodwill poem 

it’s where I go when I am sad

today I had no good reason 
but there it was, so I let it take the wheel

do what you know how to do, go 
drive there with your eyes closed 

and every year 
the Goodwill gets more full of sadness

even though it is the best and biggest
Goodwill in the world

prices creep, men nod off in line
crumpled bills fall to the floor 

so much security

2 men not in uniform walk fast 
bust something up, kick someone out

girl screams backwards
wrists behind her back

the treasure shop up front is gone 

the taxidermied bear by the popcorn machine

I have not been to the glitter sale in years

leaving, I walk brisk to my car, ashamed of the pace
but not wanting to see 

the air smells like blossoms, sirens come closer
near new moon, bathing the trashed cement

I leave with a hand stitched dress 
covered in hieroglyphics

I will never wear it out