Fleas in the Market

Flea Market Sunday, so bright, so dirty.
Walk around in half daze, thinking that just
maybe I'll find something this time, ha! Funny to
think that, 'cause there ain't nothing but shit here.
I recall, many years earlier, walking around the flea
market of my hometown. It was held at the fairgrounds back then.
Probably because it had the most space, and it seemed so
appropriate that it was there. The dirty, openness of the fairgrounds,
splayed out in the hot sun, not during actual "fair time", but
it might as well have been. Pass by myriad booths set up
seemingly straight out of some old Hispanic man's failing van.
Lots of junk for sale, nothing you need, but everything you think
you want. Just melting there in the hot sun, glistening, shiny, and bright.
Nothing much has changed, 20 years later, strolling along the old ruins
of somebody else's fortune, now trying to sell it off to strangers.
It's nothing I need, just everything I think I need. I pass on, buying nothing
but smiling inwardly at the fact that somethings really never change. The shiny
items will all be there next week; stacked and sorted and ready to be purchased.