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About This Poem
Home Depot Morning
Sunshine drapes the valley with contentment;
lilacs trade in declining market shares of spring.
A light breeze clings to jilted winter, love-puckish,
chilled; snipping at passersby.
Rental equipment languishes on the walk
puffing smokes, laughing about last year’s breakdowns.
Shoppers rustle the shelves briskly.
looking for missing pieces to puzzling projects.
Inside this cavernous box, complete homes lie in disarray,
pieces scattered chaotically - some assembly required.
No job is too small.
Sardine fasteners swim with grouper panels.
Fencing spars with irrigation supplies.
Concrete dribbles slowly from incontinent sacks.
Aisle five bleats loudly as a long-necked dragon
mouths a unit of sheetrock from makeover-heaven’s top shelf.
Rubberneckers crane to see if
wall street will crash.
Pumpernickel is not available
but kit-kats and peanut butter cups abound at the check out.
The self service line is inoperative - as usual -
an associate offers assistance; patience leaves the building.
Soon the 15 items-or-less kiosk is swarmed;
an angry buzz begins to swell.
The pumpkin-clad full-service operative
turns off the “open” light in self defense.
The automatic door closes with a polite swish,
as a squeaky cart wheels another dream across
the parking lot where ravens crowd around
a fallen latte pecking at a dab of joe.
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