day NINE HUNDRED and SEVENTY THREE

fresh meat

black friday morning

4am alarms

pull myself out

of post-holiday torpor

warm up the car

drive thirty minutes

to eat donuts

make final preparations

for the rush

it’s odd that at 30

i’ve never worked black friday

at least not the morning

door busters and crowds

the desperate american faces

pressed to glass

gawking at cheap trinkets

acquired to impress

the no one or nothing in their life

i’ve worked plenty of holidays

spent hours into thanksgiving mornings

setting displays or resetting

an entire store

i’ve spent evenings

in lifeless stores

the warm embouchure

of post capital bliss

faded florescent zombies

picking clean the remains

this black Friday

they’re camped out

as i get keys in the door

i’m poked with questions

fax machines and thumb drives

i feel the bile rise

mouth electric dry

lights on

people already sentenced

to work follow me

to battle stations

i’ve made the mistake

of mentioning I’ve never

opened a black friday

i’ve never witnessed the carnage

it’s been decided

now i’ll open the door

and i’ll open on my boss’s command

that command

FRESH MEAT!

--Jason Baldinger