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Bull Market

They’re selling everything -
What good these mottled wings of swallowtail
Or elastic reach of a morning sun?
Make it fit a pocket or purse
beside the loose change or make it gone….
Can’t neatly tuck away forty acre lakes and rose gardens,
fit them behind a green sofa – Ka-ching!
They’re selling everything…
Summer afternoons and the dreams of sleeping babies.
Put enough zeros behind a tenner or twenty,
heaven finds a new home in Malibu.
They’re selling everything….
When it comes time to take a breath of night air,
follow the peregrine to the end of the rainbow
Uh–oh, they’re wrapped in brown paper,
headed south in a panel van.

Bull market - they sold everything.

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