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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