I can't remember my first visit, couldn't have been more than eight
The way I recall it I was there every weekend
The Spring Valley Swap Meet was just the place for me
Just a kid digging through boxes looking for treasure
Digging through other people's junk, such a weird pleasure
A dime a comic, a quarter for a book
Maybe scrape enough together to buy something special
Like a new T-shirt or a poster or a skateboard
Old magazines and used art supplies to add to the hoard
Wore out and beat up my new tennie shoes
Walking up and down row after row of sellers hawking merchandise
The heat of the San Diego sun softening the asphalt
Sweat drying before it could drip, ice melting before the first sip
All the while on the lookout for a bargain to justify the trip
All day Saturday, all day Sunday, get there early in the morning
Hoping to beat the bargain shoppers who could spend real money
Frazetta poster decoupaged to a piece of plywood with burnt edges
Racks of Army and Navy surplus, mysterious boxes, unopened packages
The Spring Valley swap meet, where I paid a nickel for a copy of Sgt Peppers
The album cover taped up on a side that had split open, but no scratches
The Spring Valley swap meet, where I ended up helping Ralph sell photos
Concert pictures he had taken and 8 X10 stills from old movies
The Spring Valley swap meet where I ended up selling ice cold sodas
Thirst quenching, heat beating, caffeine fortified and invigorating
stimulating, exhilarating, refreshing and effervescing
$1.00 for twenty ounces of ice cold throat soothing brew
If my girl was that hot I'd buy her two
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