SECRET SHOPPER

  

I browse in antique shops but never buy.

I’m always searching there for something old,

But seldom find what’s old enough to try.

 

Neglect, patina, ambiance I crave, —

The sense of things that were so modern once,

And now are untold stories in the grave.

 

You won’t catch me shoplifting and emboldened.

Too slick for that, I stash goods in my mind:

My head’s chock full of oddities unstolen.

 

Antique myself I find it suits my ways

To gravitate toward things Sub specie

Aeternitatis, as the Ancients say.

 

So when you stop me on my way back out,

Don’t think you’ll nail me with the loot in hand.

Feel free to frisk me if you’ve any doubt.

 

I’m your best patron, take my word or not!

Though should you meet another who’s like me,

He’ll tell you what I’ve told you, on the spot.