one man's trash is a van gogh

I have been revisiting
the letters of Vinnie Van Gogh
and a friend assumed, she said,
that it would be a saddening and sober read,
but like with many people whose lives end
so sadly and wihtout control,
and like in my own life,
most of the translated grave and beautiful
words he wrote are filled with
life-luster, dreams, a hopefulness, and
some obscured admissions
that the ups are as up as the downs are down
and ups this up
do not come every generation

and even when the mill is gone, 
the wind remains
and book-cover judgers stare,
wishers wish, 
waiters sleep through their appointments,
and one man's trash 
is another man's pizza party.

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