An Ode to Wal-Mart
EvilToasterElf
Posts: 1,119
24 Hour Supercenter
minivans speed down aisle after aisle
in the glare of hoods and trunks
a red caravan cuts off a rusted Dodge neon
its driver a retired woman
in a plum dress
“Damn it!” she yells to an empty passenger side
to the ghost of a husband beaten by lung cancer and Jack Daniels
and the shadows of two grown up children, fleeing the scene of
a crime,
abusive parenting
an overweight mother
piles her 4 children out of the van,
to the lawnmowers, go-karts wrapped in chains, and garden blocks
outside
at the entrance two old men greet me
one with red frames, one thick black
the glasses compliment the blue vest
with a motto on their back
“How may I help you?”
a smartly dressed blonde woman in her 30’s,
wears shoes that sting tile
begging eyes to rise to the seams of her tight jeans,
and a body toned by gym membership
She averts her glance from a local,
holding hands with his young son,
he smiles to her backside,
lowering his gaze to her ass, revealing gaps in his teeth.
i get to the food section and look back,
three quarters of a mile away lies the auto care center
men died
to gain less distance at the Somme
i can see the brigades charge over the trenches of DVD racks
dodge under the barbed wire Christmas lights
avoid the machine gun nest in arts and crafts, hidden behind a wall
of felt
athletes have sustained lifelong injuries
to move a ball half that distance
driving through the defensive line of specially priced bean bag chairs
the quarterback rolls back to sporting goods, and fires a rifle, straight to his
wide receiver in the autocare zone, where he’s tackled hard by an employee
past his prime
a sniper may have been this far from Kennedy,
cruising down lingerie with his top down
while a scope held his head like a newborn child from dinnerware
What do, Toucan Sam, Tony the Tiger, and Lucky the leprechaun, have in common?
One third of a child’s meals and none of their nutrition
in the frozen foods section
i hear a kid scream “I want ice-pops”
the mother says “No!” and in a lowered voice
“Be quiet! You’re embarrassing me!”
i turn to “box dinners” and “international”
where the same pleading voice asks
for potato chips
continuing my malaise down the aisle i
see the woman rear back and smack
him across the face
“we have a spill on aisle nine, moral leak on aisle nine, Fred can you get
a mop”
the toy aisles are colorful but empty
a shrill scream can be heard from the pet section
they have no real pets there, just goldfish and pet food
under the bright blue RX sign
one woman leans on her walker
buckling under the weight of her own life prolonging
prescriptions
check-out lanes run down the length of the
store, the final hurdle between coveting and owning
a loud beep registers each bar code
and a silent shuffle of employees moves the items into bags
black semi-transparent bubbles dart out of the ceiling
they reflect shapes and movement
but half of them are empty,
a small deterrent
they hang like crude oil raindrops sprayed onto
the leaves of endangered Venezuelan herbs
in “Regal Nails” a family of young Asians toil
inhaling fumes and chemicals for 2 bucks a nail
outside
every aisle of the parking lot has two spaces
“Reserved for expectant mothers” with a picture
of a stork
He wasn’t dropping kids in the toy section
A red haired girl and three boys play in Chevrolet Express
abandoned to other parking lot prisoners
towing their gods in carts
wrapped in paper or plastic
waiting for dick clark to fall with a giant check
behind me a red has a fly-guard stating
“Praise the Lord”
minivans speed down aisle after aisle
in the glare of hoods and trunks
a red caravan cuts off a rusted Dodge neon
its driver a retired woman
in a plum dress
“Damn it!” she yells to an empty passenger side
to the ghost of a husband beaten by lung cancer and Jack Daniels
and the shadows of two grown up children, fleeing the scene of
a crime,
abusive parenting
an overweight mother
piles her 4 children out of the van,
to the lawnmowers, go-karts wrapped in chains, and garden blocks
outside
at the entrance two old men greet me
one with red frames, one thick black
the glasses compliment the blue vest
with a motto on their back
“How may I help you?”
a smartly dressed blonde woman in her 30’s,
wears shoes that sting tile
begging eyes to rise to the seams of her tight jeans,
and a body toned by gym membership
She averts her glance from a local,
holding hands with his young son,
he smiles to her backside,
lowering his gaze to her ass, revealing gaps in his teeth.
i get to the food section and look back,
three quarters of a mile away lies the auto care center
men died
to gain less distance at the Somme
i can see the brigades charge over the trenches of DVD racks
dodge under the barbed wire Christmas lights
avoid the machine gun nest in arts and crafts, hidden behind a wall
of felt
athletes have sustained lifelong injuries
to move a ball half that distance
driving through the defensive line of specially priced bean bag chairs
the quarterback rolls back to sporting goods, and fires a rifle, straight to his
wide receiver in the autocare zone, where he’s tackled hard by an employee
past his prime
a sniper may have been this far from Kennedy,
cruising down lingerie with his top down
while a scope held his head like a newborn child from dinnerware
What do, Toucan Sam, Tony the Tiger, and Lucky the leprechaun, have in common?
One third of a child’s meals and none of their nutrition
in the frozen foods section
i hear a kid scream “I want ice-pops”
the mother says “No!” and in a lowered voice
“Be quiet! You’re embarrassing me!”
i turn to “box dinners” and “international”
where the same pleading voice asks
for potato chips
continuing my malaise down the aisle i
see the woman rear back and smack
him across the face
“we have a spill on aisle nine, moral leak on aisle nine, Fred can you get
a mop”
the toy aisles are colorful but empty
a shrill scream can be heard from the pet section
they have no real pets there, just goldfish and pet food
under the bright blue RX sign
one woman leans on her walker
buckling under the weight of her own life prolonging
prescriptions
check-out lanes run down the length of the
store, the final hurdle between coveting and owning
a loud beep registers each bar code
and a silent shuffle of employees moves the items into bags
black semi-transparent bubbles dart out of the ceiling
they reflect shapes and movement
but half of them are empty,
a small deterrent
they hang like crude oil raindrops sprayed onto
the leaves of endangered Venezuelan herbs
in “Regal Nails” a family of young Asians toil
inhaling fumes and chemicals for 2 bucks a nail
outside
every aisle of the parking lot has two spaces
“Reserved for expectant mothers” with a picture
of a stork
He wasn’t dropping kids in the toy section
A red haired girl and three boys play in Chevrolet Express
abandoned to other parking lot prisoners
towing their gods in carts
wrapped in paper or plastic
waiting for dick clark to fall with a giant check
behind me a red has a fly-guard stating
“Praise the Lord”
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
You ever seen Hieronymous Bosch's painting of hell? That's Wal-Mart anticipated in the middle ages.
Like the poem. Don't envy the research you had to do for it though!
poetry of Wal-Martl
blows on a deserted street
empty buildings
with padlocked doors
and boarded windows
decorated with signs saying
for sale or for lease
stand in silent watch
as the paper makes its way
the one store still open
advertises a going out of buisness sale
like moths to a flame
the fools rush to the bright lights
and shiney glitter of the walmart
while the heart and soul
of their community
withers and dies
in the silence of the night
I am all too familiar with the scene, and truly wish I was not.
Wish I could afford not to be.
Wish I could abstain from convenient toothpaste/shampoo/toiletpaper/whitebread/peanutbutter/windshieldwiper/greetingcard all-in-one trips.
Wish Sam Walton had never dreamed of it.
Wish the KMart across the street wasn't every bit as depressing and/or open later than 9pm.
very descriptive and hellish
I loathe those kind of places
there's a kfc around every corner... chicken, licken, fricken GOOD!! or so sez sassafrass and her gummed up innerds..
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green