Caveat Emptor

Oh, misaligned, maligned, malignant
A throwaway comment
Compressing a life, lives, a whole nation
Into mere bric-a-brac
Bring out your dead, bring your dead
Only dead people here
Remaining remnants, remainders, remains
All that is left of stuff

Through the blue door—
Not the end of the tunnel—
Up the worn-out steps, cutting corners
Taking you into that other world
Of stuff, of yellowing cotton, sweat-stained, neck-grimed
Imprinted with dead people, by dead people
Dead for sale, death for sale
Come and buy
Everything’s going cheap, sold as seen
A bargain, but—as always—caveat emptor