We Live As Your Old Thoughts

In your new heads, none of which
Is old next to most of us,
But, like a used word store, new

To you and new to us, here
In the front panes of your soul,
Goods for show, look what you have,

What you’ve learned, what you’ve bought,
The well-liked, well-thumbed, and rare,
A few of the rare. Here we go,

You smile as you ring us up,
Pleased to make a sale, to find
A friend of sorts, the same tastes

In word and phrase, a sharp eye
For old thoughts with still some use.
And there we go out the door.