The Secondhand Shop

Dear hand-painted sign,

I will follow your arrows.

I will not measure the distance because I will go as far as I must.

What treasures will I find when I get there?

Do you offer rusted tools of yesteryear with wooden handles worn smooth?

Dresses like my grandmother wore when she was the most beautiful woman in the room?

Or perhaps you hold bowls of memories — dirty kitchen magnets and keychain souvenirs from a trip to Hollywood when glamour was more real than homelessness.

I see you on the ground quietly directing me to this place of possibilities.

A place where everything is wonderfully unknown.