Black Friday

Some where
far beyond dexterity:
a suburban half life for
Fahrenheit’s latitude
a man is being wrestled
down by the state police.
Shoved complacently in the cold
white fluffy snow covers his naked face
as he’s still assured his rights
for cutting the line in front of Walmart.

I wrote this poem a couple of years ago.  I’ve always thought this idea of waking up at 5:00am for a sale to be ridiculous, but then again I hate crowds, I’m not a morning person, and I’m very suspicious about everything, even sales.  Regardless, I never thought that someone would be trampled to death over a sale, especially in 2008.   This is really sad.