At the commune two VW vans 
are parked back to back
beneath the oak in the door-yard

Down the road
the auction started at seven 

The barn yard is crowded
so for a better view
men have clambered onto the tin roof of the barn

The auctioneer
his shirt pocket sagging under the weight
of glasses and pens
wears a crooked green trebly
and mud covered overalls

He pulls a heifer before the crowd
sticking his stubby fingers into her nose
and pulling down her gums

A chair maker from the commune 
with wild hair and an unkempt beard
a cigarette in one hand
stops harvesting cattails 
to sway to the singsong rhythm
of the auctioneer