Mrs. Kettlebeck finds knickknacks for her boutique.
Prowling through the city dump, or even
among residential garbage cans, Mrs.
Kettlebeck finds knickknacks for
her upscale boutique, a boutique
for the super rich.
Dressed in red, wearing a plaid
hat and carrying a canvas bag in which
to tote her rubbish booty, she culls that
glitter throw-away like a fiend feeding on
morsels or inanimate foodstuffs, rushes like
swollen streams in spring to gather mayo-stained
trinkets for her uppity boutique, and eyes her heap-
strewn environs like a guilty thief, her big blue eyes
adorned with long lashes illumed in the dim light of
early morning stalking.
But I must tell you, ma’am, I would never buy
a single piece.
God bless you, Mrs. Kettlebeck, your secret
is out. Yet Jesus loves you anyway,
despite the unorthodox raccoon.