Aimless as windblown paper <br />Chanced against the parking lot's chainlink fence, <br />She idles down the aisles in the Wal-Mart, <br />And pauses a time amid the cosmetics. <br />Has what was written in her faded <br />Or was it ever even published? <br />Sure now she's weathered clean <br />Vacant of both narrative and meaning. <br /> <br />She's not so old as the seniors, out for a lark, <br />Nor so young as the stressed-out mothers <br />With their screaming spawn. <br />She was once a child too, in her mother's cart, <br />And they'll be her in turn, <br />Though it strains each mother's heart. <br /> <br />Not for her, the rush of purpose that is shopping, <br />She's the ebb of the American Dream, <br />Drained of all hope and planning. <br />In the stores of old there'd be a clerk <br />To show her mascara and lipstick, <br />To guide her gently, to get her back on track, <br />Does she feel the loss of help and concern? <br />Is she perhaps longing for some human contact? <br />I hope she doesn't notice me <br />As I watch her like a hawk, <br />I'm sure she's shoplifting <br />And sure I'll see her caught.<br /><br />William L Roberts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shopping-9/
