Fools Gold

by Samuel De Lemos


In Atlanta there are these
market places.

All you can think of; spices,
oils, hundreds of vegetables
I’ve never heard of.

I’d walk the aisles examining
what people from distant lands,
like the Caribbean, Africa and Asia

It was a veritable
of tastes and smells.

On one Isle, between
the Russian vodka
and Belarus cookies,
a peddler approached
me and asked,
if I’d be interested
in buying some gold?

He showed me his
bracelets and rings…
How much? I said,
twenty dollars, he replied.

I handed him the
cash-as I got
the jewels.
I was excited
to get
a steal!

Hurriedly, I went and
showed off my stash.
My wife was not impressed.
That’s fools gold, she said.

It wasn’t
long before
it turned green.

Ironically, I was
the bigger fool and
she hasn’t let
me live it down.