antique store in denver

a room inside a room inside a room

each playing its own fuzzy tune.

float along

squeaky floorboards

like an accordion stretching

its hollow folds.

amid teacups

with maroon lipstick

still on the rim.

chunky jewelry

made well

jangles weighty

and tarnished.

we forage deeper

entranced by

stained glass fixtures

grazing wooly textures

and doll heads

sold for cents.

no right place,

nowhere else to be

so we climb a steep staircase.

lonely limp vestures

hanging

above us

hear our stomps

and hold

their breath.

oh dusty treasure chest,

debris untouched

until they picked you up

and left all your pieces

behind.