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
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.
