Black Friday In the Mall
Walking wounded
in the mall,
so many, so joyless,
grimly marching from
store to store.
So few with a dance
in their step.
Buying and not needing,
hoping things will change
their life.
Looking and wanting,
this really is Cibola,
a golden illusion,
all you could want, yet
you still age searching
for streets paved
with rubies
and a temple given
over to greed and foolishness,
and a child to work,
and a woman to sweat,
and a father to die,
thousands of miles
from home.
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