black friday 1991
seventeen years old
pressed against the wall
in a sports retail store
to try to shield
yourself from the masses
a hangover from pilfered beer
on thanksgiving
it seems that these customers keep
coming from out of nowhere
demanding hats
and jackets
trinkets to shove into stockings
on christmas morning
discarded items marked down
treated like gold found in a pan
packs of teenage girls
who don’t have to work
coming in to give you a look
or to laugh at you
arm in arm with your wealthy classmates
who don’t have to work this shit either
as the store manager runs around
targeting you and only you
pull up your pants!
tuck in your shirt!
you better shave tomorrow!
why aren’t you selling anything, you bum?
knowing that he’ll be
cutting your hours come january 2nd
as he roams around
his little kingdom
kissing ass
and taking names
an inept drill sergeant
fifteen years older than you
but in the same clown outfit
and you’re supposed
to take orders from this guy?
as the old beer beer
and turkey dinner
rises in your stomach
like a harbinger of doom
you wade through the crowd
past the t-shirts
and sweatshirts
and sweatpants
that have fallen from their racks
trampled on
mounds of goods you’ll spend
your twilight steaming
so that they are as good as new
tomorrow
before another day of this hell
to reach
the staff bathroom
needing sweet vomitus relief
but finding it occupied
with another fallen soldier
so you have no recourse
but to head out into
veins of the mall
secret gray corridors
smelling of rotten food
from the food court
echoing silver bells
silver bells
sil-ver bells
it’s christmas time
and i fell shitty
finding
an open garbage can
outside a taco bell
into which you hurl
bile and turkey
and mashed potatoes
and beer
like a roman
wiping your mouth
as some pimple-faced
slave-wager
pokes his head out a doorway
shouts at you
hoping that he didn’t see
the logo of your brand
on your right breast
as you
start to run away.
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