The Hyperactive Stranger

in #poetry5 years ago (edited)

One day at a food shop,
I met a man selling apples,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some dapples.

"Got any dapples?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No dapples here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.

"We've got some lovely chips,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some genus thrips."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.

The man seemed exceptionally busy,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call fizzy,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.

Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit hyperactive.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty proactive.

So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the food shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."

"Apples, dapples, you shall find.
Chips, genus thrips, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to The Corn Market.

So to The Corn Market I decided to go,
In search of the dapples I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.

There were stalls selling crisps,
Dresses in many shades.
There were even stalls selling lisps
People were scattered from many trades

I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather hyperactive
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all proactive.

Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some dapples!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some chips and apples.

"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the dapples she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.

As I walked away I heard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?

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