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The Club Opened the door of her Ford, trucking in to Buymart, kids lagging behind. One licking cherry sugar off her hands, while the handsome guy passing in the isle, couldn't help but notice choking spandex pants curling up her ankles. Does that shirt say, "I'm a Hottie?", in pastel letters? A distraction catches him off guard, three women are arguing over the last roll of poinsetta wrapping paper, while the janitor is sweeping pretzels up off the floor. The janitor smiles, and keeps sweeping. Eight teens run past, I-pods, screeching putting on a show where ever they can find an audience. Note pads, cross off lists, "Where can I find the cheapest sweater in your store?" The stock clerk pushes his way past with a pallet of popcorn tins. Weary eyes, searching shelves have no idea what it is they want. Then the customer service rep stalls you for fifteen minutes giving his practiced speech about the latest hi-tech television on sale. Christmas? Stop! Blessed be the day When Jesus is remembered, In all the Glory of his birth, For all the people of the world, Who God has chosen to be a child of his. On this day only, Christmas is. |
Additional Notes:
Just for fun.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Duane J Jackson On Date: 2009-12-20 01:54:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
Hi Deni,
I appreciate the light heartedness of the piece. Something to raise the spirits especially at this time of the year. I also like the message (the commercial tone that this season has taken on). It read much like prose but as you mentioned, it was just for fun and must not be looked at with a microscope.
Take care and keep in touch.
Duane.