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.