An urban merchant

 The suitcase I dragged 
it's contents falling out 
spilling across the decorative urban rug
Looking for a crossroad
A market
A place to express all assumptions
A semblance of wisdom
Of charisma
SO that I might sell the contents
Neighbors pull curtains
As my footfalls echo off the clean dark ashphalt
My wares falling out on the road
Like a cumbersome child insistant
That it's toys accompany him
The day oscillates between late afternoon and midday
I have no vehicle
And the legs of a tired merchant
One mission and all other purposes lost and forgotten.