Nothing Ever Happens in a Ghost Town

The cancelled postal stamp told war stories.
The wastepaper basket turned Hamlet into a musical.
The magic mirror, who was going blind,
Told us the secret to Cinderella’s perfume.
The mountain-maker had better things to do.

The potted plant, as always, drank too much.
Lips so loosened, he talked about his days
In a doctor’s waiting room, shuffling the sick
Like so many crumpled cards.

When it came to be my turn, I ate a pear.
Everyone was impressed, even
The two-headed coin, who was also incredulous.
Then I talked about my first love,
And the room shook with laughter.
We all became old friends overnight.