He spotted it amongst the dross
displayed on a trestle table
in the middle of that
field of massed jumble,
the Sunday morning car boot sale.
He handled it.
It felt "right" - the real thing.
He was pretty sure he knew
what it was and its value.
The price tag showed a figure
only a fraction of its worth,
if he was correct. Nevertheless
he haggled, had a bit knocked off,
as this was expected.
Had he picked up a bargain?
Research on the internet
supported his hunch.
The experts at the auction house
confirmed it was genuine.
There was keen competition
between bidders in the room,
on the telephone and on line.
It went for a sum
well in excess of estimate.
It pays to know something's true value
he mused, not without a pang.
In the past he would have
celebrated this coup with his wife,
before she left him
following his misjudged affair
with a girl he picked up down the pub.
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