The Powerful Stranger At Orange Street

One day at a gift shop,
I met a man selling cards,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some nards.

"Got any nards?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No nards here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.

"We've got some lovely pens,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some telephoto lens."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.

The man seemed exceptionally amazing,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call blazing,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.

Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit powerful.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty flowerful.

So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the gift shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."

"Cards, nards, you shall find.
Pens, telephoto lens, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to Orange Street Market.

So to Orange Street Market I decided to go,
In search of the nards I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.

There were stalls selling pies,
Marbles in many shades.
There were even stalls selling apologize
People were scattered from many trades

I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather powerful
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all flowerful.

Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some nards!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some pens and cards.

"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the nards she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.

As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?