Through Walmart's Doors
A gaze within
A look without
At a blur of a throng
That moves about
Old… young
Fat… thin
Rushing home
Then back again
Eager faces,
Ready checks
Fingers tight on
Back of children’s necks
Tugging at carts
Stuck tightly together
All dressed… all wrong
No matter the weather
Chinese products
Bought chop-chop quick
Out of date products
That makes them sick
A blur of humanity
An unending shout
River of people…
That flows in and out
In and out, …out and in
A blur…a river…a streak
Twenty four hours… each and every day
Seven days a week
poem by David Whalen
Added by Poetry Lover
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