all my fridays are black

my attempt to describe the desperation and illness i witness via cctv at work everyday during the holiday season

bumped and jostled and
dodging the flailing limbs of
the desperate middle aged bent on
hoarding piles of random plastic
all hail to
fourtytofiftytosixty
percent off! scream out the
last vestiges of paper: sale signs half
buried in the debris, a swath of
fabric madness tumbling
towards the floor
oh to find the exit to this pit of
mass consumption would be
blissful~ a sweet respite~ in the
distance i see men with
canes take flight, leaping shopping carts like
hurdles toward freedom
~the parking lot awaits!~
the roar is deafening: hundreds of
snippets of conversation gasp and fight for
air. grandmothers ponder mitten sizes out
loud to waiting husbands with
heavy, glazed over eyes and
sullen, featureless expressions like
so many mannequins.
 fiscal caution is tossed to the wind and they
throw in one in every color and
something for the dog too, never mind
that closets overflow already and
the cashier dutifully (but violently) cramming
treasures once discovered into
gray green bags by design destined to
camouflage and obscure their contents and
barely mustered niceties like the
"thanksforshoppings" and the
"comebacksoons" blend with the
siren song of tired shrieking toddlers.
meanwhile, tinny emotionless holiday carols croak
out over rusty speakers that also promise
bargains to be had in aisle three to
only the quickest and most nimble.

more and more sheep in human form pour in
through glass portals steamed over from the
hot breath of the rabid masses already
inside the concrete box and the mechanical
voice beckons more bodies to
assist at the checkout lanes in
stripping workers of their wages for
things they do not need
and i, like so many others who
feign at fighting crime, am
in quarantine alone in my tiny, windowless
room watching the evolution of
the disease of holiday chaos as
it blossoms before me.
from now until bleak february arrives
all my fridays are black.

Author's Note

want your feedback- please let me know- do you get a sense of the level of stress and the panic in the way this is written?

Reviews

[ice]

The panic is easily felt, Heather. I love it when earth people have had enough, and go on a spirit cleansing rant.:-) Wendel Berry would approve.
Good job....
ice