I
Primitive platinum Pachucan thimble
used just once to sew eyes shut
Peruvian glass slippers
for dancing the see-thru night away
Paraguayan parasols atop park benches
to poke Uruguayans who sleep there
II
Polish kielbasa
grilled on a roll, mustard/sauerkraut
Purple grape pixie sticks
sweet never opened
III
Princeton genius ponders
atoms of a moth-eaten sweater
IV
People everywhere
praying
V
People everywhere
preying
Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 
I do not know what’s going on.
? Are you OK?
Unless you mean within the context of this poem, in which case you are in good company as I don’t have a clue either. 🙂 —CC
I think both.
I can help you with the poem – the rest I’m not too sure about. —CC
It’s a yard sale – an eclectic array of crap belonging to someone else. The numbers represent the various tables there in the yard. Parking is sometimes tough – luckily this sale is off of a cul-de-sac. See anything you like?
I don’t like yard sales.
Neither do I.