A peddler, stout-stricken
offers pods of daisy eyes for three pence
she waddles about in slippers of sludge, speaking
nonsense words that choose no direction, wander faring

absolute/shegrins/morbid bits of top hat
pull out a hare catching the flu, she shoves blue-denim veins

they glow in humor like fine eyes, glasses awry
visions fading. They are
and will be
a significant bunch, she muses.
Cutthroat is contemptuous, alienating
The groundhog will see his shadow ' three weeks more of winter!
a hollow beneath laced eyelashes, glisten
they whisper as hands carry glocks
She realizes they forgot to tip.