We are pushed by
out-of-date clothes,
chased by boldly printed scarves,
shoved by trinkets
and lozenges.

St. Remy’s market bustles
in the morning sun.
Massive crowds craving
bargains. It is
a festival day.
Vendors lace the cake with
eternal candles, turned off
shortly after noon.

We wander through the
giddy ambiance, peer at the
high-priced wares, wary
of being taken for tourists.
Art, cheese and spices
catch our eyes. We
take home paintings,
etchings, nougat.
We nourish the local
economy.

A church hovers on
the brightly colored fringe.
Its steps a convenient
respite from the madding
crowd. I taste
cheeses, meats, candies
and foie gras.

A twinge of conscience:
Innocent geese gorged
on grain.
Farmers work hard to
achieve the right-sized
livers: bloated.
They can their product,
stamped with primitive
labels.
An immoral delicacy
proffered on tasting sticks.

Euros drop like flies
from my wallet, emptying
it. In search of cash,
we discover antique
wine-tastings cups.
Burgundy tinged with
pewter.
Materialism thrives in
every crammed, covered
booth. Bartering for
prices the hard truth
of commerce.

Who knows a value when
you see one?
Who needs another object
to shelve?
Yet we buy, buy, buy, eyes
weak against temptation.
Humble elegance especially
earns a tip.