The Grand Scheme

by Ed Makowski

For a few months
I devised a plan
to buy motorcycles
in Fall
and sell them in Spring
at a profit.

No one wants to store
something an old habit
all winter
and prices are highest
after the first 80 degree day.
I collected four bikes
between Fall and February,
then in April
planned to sell.

With other riders
I went to a swap meet
in another state
with the four bikes
and all of our spare parts

We pulled in at four in the morning
and a guy with a flashlight
ran up to the truck bed, another vendor,
offered cash for the first bike he saw
“Does it run? Got a title?” No. Yes.
One down. Cash.

I sat all day
in a folding chair
behind sunglasses
watching junk collectors.
a circular revolving door of
dreams based on rusty
painted metal parts

The potential that these inanimate objects
might
go real fast
or make a lot of money
or make the seller or purchaser feel
youthful
or smart
or savvy

I imagined the entire weekend life
of the vendors surrounding us.

Load everything in the trailer.
Drive to a fairground in another state.
Unload the trailer.
Pull up the pants, eat a hot dog.
Sell a few things.
Load the trailer again.
Drive the same old and new old things
home to another state.
Unload the trailer again.

Many of them had trailers and RVs built
specifically for this purpose.

Everything of mine
sold
except one bike and

So disgusted at
the tide of useless junk
washed in then reclaimed,
the fat crowd shuffling
flies on feces feverishly panting,
arguing to pay seven dollars versus twelve
for a '75 CB550 tool kit, that

I pushed the last bike,
a non-runner,
into the walkway
and wrote FREE on the headlight.
Slid the title between the
seat and tank
before
driving home empty