Oddly Mangled, Us

With profound apologies to Percy Shelley.

I met a dealer from an antique store
Who hauled a vast and legless trunk of stone
With him to shows on every foreign shore.
Where he the merchandise, with gloomy frown
And hands in pockets tucked, looked coldly o'er.
Some seller there his countenance misread
And offered him low price on certain things
Whereon his avarice had lately fed.
No joy upon the dealer's face appears
But slow he turns, and slowly gives shillings
His triumph hidden under fake despair.
The seller's take of cash is scant today.
The heavy trunk holds all that it can bear.
The dealer slowly hauls his trunk away.