Slowly I wade in and flow with
a stream of shoppers blinking
like bulbs at glinting trees and fish
with our eyes the gilt rainbow logos.
Swimming with the school past
cutout elf land to escape cabin fever,
all double over with nostalgia to hear
small-town carolers' good will and cheer.
As baskets bulge and aisles pinch,
checkout lines divide and cinch.
But past the clothes and fishing rods,
my jaws set and angling wrist goes stiff.
Yank on a supply chain to its tip
and find sullen child elves,
bent men and their women,
pale and gulping nasal drip.
Where new plants and goods
spawn, tributaries often narrow
and haze blankets cabbagey air
sifting coal soot into marrow.
Speakers boom, “Today only, half off
La Belle Dame brand boots…” I walk out
empty handed, pale and loiter not
in the poorly banked and icy lot.
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