When Kids Go To Wal-Mart

They run around like banshees,
Lurching, clawing,
For that decibel
Only dogs can hear,
Arguing over Faded Glory
And begging for Sam’s Choice sweet things.

Their parents follow them,
Or leave them in their wake,
As if,
As if, I too
Had birthed beasts
And left them un-caged,
Uncouth,
And as if I had no hearing left.

When I go to Wal-Mart,
I can feel my fallopian tubes
Tie themselves in knots
Taking my body’s instruction,
Preservation of eardrum and patience alike.

It’s no wonder the linoleum
Is scuffed and dirty,
For the wildebeests have had
Their sodas and candies
And, hey—better here than at your house.

Better here,
Where you can share
The wonder that is children
With the rest of us.


2007