There was a man who long remained nameless,
and dreamt he was a child,
lost in a big-box department store, he sang,
"I want that 'n that 'n that...", and smiled;
then, vaguely recognizing a figure ahead
who strode past items on the shelves,
he followed it, feeling strange, unknown desires
that, then, asserted themselves.
Knowing it wasn't a parent ahead, no way
would they push through this large a crowd,
he trailed the figure, the metallic wail
of the cart wheels, unmistakably loud.
Yes, the figure pushed a shopping cart, but that's the way
of dreams: something appears, then is seen.
The cart, now so furiously driven, was, every moment,
fuller than it had, before, been.
With, still, no idea as to this mysterious identity
so, seemingly, determined to remain out of reach,
a voice from above interrupted, "Attention, closing time,
carts to the front!", in a boomed screech,
the elusive figure then stormed the doors,
as the dreamt child ran in despairing pursuit,
like a broke gambler in some manic marathon,
praying dealt cards be of a certain suit.
All desire and desperation, then, disappeared,
as he gained the exit and crossed the parking lot,
he saw the figure looming at a precipice,
moonlight revealed a form, restrained by no knot.