Standard (EADGBE)

Garage Sale. Saturday. I need to pay

 my heart's outstanding bills.

A cracked-up compass and a pocket watch,

 some plastic daffodils.

 The cutlery and coffee cups I stole

 from all-night restaurants,

 a sense of wonder only slightly used

 a year or two to haunt you in the dark.

 For a phone call from far away

 with a "Hi, how are you today?",

 and a sign recovery comes

 to the broken ones.

 A wage-slave forty-hour work week weighs

 a thousand kilograms.

 So bend your knees comes with a free fake smile

 for all your dumb demands.

 The cordless razor that my father bought

 when I turned 17,

 a puke-green sofa, and the outline to

 a complicated dream of dignity.

 For a laugh, too loud and too long.

 For a place where Awkward belongs,

 and a sign recovery comes

 to the broken ones.

 to the broken ones.

 to the broken ones.

 For the broken ones.

"Or Best Offer."