SPORTCARD DEALERS ODE IN REVERSE

Jabber, jabber, jabber talk. Incessant noise,
they drive me crazy, these little boys.

Hours to spend, twenty cents on their mind.
I tell myself. "Be patient. Be kind!"

Talk, talk, talk, jabber. Nonsense a-mile-a-minute,
"Uh, that box over there, what'd ya say was in it?"

Freckled noses wrinkle, rolling brown eyes,
then they blurt. "Are you in for a BIG surprise!"

They jabber, jabber, jabber in villianish squeals.
"We love to make deals! Yea, we love to make deals!"

From hip and shirt pockets, ratty NEW cards. "Give it a shake?"
I groan, "I looked at these yesterday, give me a break."

Then the high whining pitch is wound up for more,
and out comes the question. "Now, how much is the Score?"

I sigh, dab my eyes, and turn my face away.
"That's the hundredth time you've ask... Today!"

They look at each other, with fiendish intent
spread over their faces, they'll not relent.

I begin to lose my grip, I feel myself slip.
The strain is wearing, and I'm about to flip.

They open their mouths. Jabber, jabber, jabber, psych.
"Enough already, you guys take a hike!"

"Out of my store, I say out, get out right now!"

They go.

But indignant.

"Gees Lady, don't have a cow!"


Linda McGeary
(c) 1990