Cheaper By the Dozen

This poem was inspired by a conversation I had with my daughter about why she doesn't like shopping at large discount stores. Most of the descriptors are hers.

Open the doors

Get swallowed by the vastness

the feel of an abandoned warehouse

into which someone has wheeled in hundreds of racks

of haphazardly hung clothing

Dresses mix 

with shirts mix 

with pants

No apparent arrangement 

     by color

     by size

     by function

Hear the buzz of overhead fluorescent lights

one-third of which are burnt out

giving the place a strange bright dimness
reminiscent of purgatory

Voices mumble in the distance

Babies cry somewhere

yet silence surrounds

Over the dirty linoleum floor

roll dozens of squeaking shopping carts

pushed by sad seeming middle aged women

They plod through the aisles

adding to their purchases

     plus sized jeans

     boy’s sneakers

     men’s underwear

     a ceramic soap dish shaped like an alligator

Their faces blank and haggard

like they’ve never known joy

and have given up searching

except for that queen sized mattress pad

which seems to be sold out.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, FB Friday, Location Location Location!