Jake's Flea Market

when they cease to be your friends

it begins when they wake   your daily companions   the change
begins one morning   the first
morning after the annual season returns   they wake

their lives dressed in silks and velvets   embroideries 
abandoned and in their sleep smocks and in the 
woolen breeches of workers they go   out of their rooms

when the oat crop’s ripened to be sickled   
baked into the hearth bread for those who never read latin   
your classmates go out   of your scholarly life by every door