my eight dollar
a poem by  
  keith  o'connor
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Some times we buy things because they remind us of something in our past and we want to keep that connection alive. 
 My Eight Dollar Time-Machine 

there it hung 
with a dozen other pictures 
on a flea-market-wall 
there was something about the picture 
eight dollars - the man said 
it's not a real painting - it's a print 
I'll give you eight dollars for it 
sure - the man said 
and we clinched the deal 
I had seen this picture - one like it 
hanging in the window  
of a small art gallery 
on Bank St. in Ottawa 
forty plus years ago 
in the nineteen sixties 
it was just a passing glance 
and it stuck in my mind's eye 
as clear as yesterday 
for forty years 
it was destiny 
I was destined to have this picture 
no matter how long it took 
it was a serigraph 
a silk-screen printing technique 
used to bring high quality art 
to people who couldn't afford it 
for very low prices 
I don't know why  
but it felt nice to see it 
hanging on the wall 
in some strange way 
I could touch 
a piece of my past 
a timeless link  
between now and then 
looking into 
my eight dollar time machine 
takes me back 
to Bank St 
on a warm sunny day 
when I was so much younger 
so many years ago  


Keith O'Connor 
aug   9   2001 
Ottawa Canada 

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