Steele's Trading Post
Tusculum Review 9/2018 Vol. 14
My trading post was near the island dump, and if the wind blew in from the North, I’d get a strong whiff of everyone’s leftovers. Bald eagles swooped down around the garbage and burned-out refrigerators. Eagles were something tourists broke into a sweat over, but tourists didn’t stop by Steele’s Trading Post unless they were lost or thought they’d find someone in a fake headdress, selling miniature totem poles for their mantelpieces, instead of just some white guy selling junk. No, I got the year-rounders who had to bring their recyclables and garbage to the dump anyway.