An empty bassinet

Lies limply beside the river.

Imagine it tips and the infant

Rolls out like an unwashed dream

Among the river stones, softly

Settles among the sediment.

Get your head out of that place.

Imagine the houseless wretch

And the knickknacks piled inside

This once-dragged puerile suitcase.

Lays then, not lies.

What treasures wrought from despair.

Which department store did he

Successfully lift this from. Feels like

Target. Has a Target vibe.

Walk past without a third thought.