Sales Flag Rattle

Blustery day, the kind that makes you lean.

Past the car lot, where the plastic sheen

of new sedans sits under a tired sky.

And then that flag, it just can't seem to die.

'SALE!' it screams, in faded, frantic red.

But it's the sound, that rattling inside my head.

A WHAP-WHAP-WHIP, a ragged, endless snap,

the metallic clang against the pole, a trap

of noise, insistent, weary, thin and frayed.

A promise, like the deals, half-made, half-swayed

by gusts of wind, that rip and tug and tear.

Just making noise, because it’s always there.