In the midnight of this, our Thursday night,I found me in a gloomy parking lotGone from the lights of men, to those of SamIt were no empty lot, was my first thoughtThat asphalt, pothole every sixth or seventh stepThis walk the memory it now inspiresDismay, and prayer for something close to deathYet to deny of what there transpiresWhere else could this originate.How first I entered it, I scarce can say,Such mindless dullness in that instant, dazedMy senses died when concrete path I leftBut when the Wal-Mart's door I reach'd, where ope'dThe savings that had filled my chest with coinI look'd aloft, and saw his hair so greyAlready vested with that garment blueWho greets all Wal-marters and thanks for stopping by.

...

"Through here, you pass into the aisles of woeThrough here, you pass into consumer painThrough here, among the shoppers lost in timeWalton, the founder of this retail mov'd:To shop here was the work of mastermind,Such ruthless pricing, margins set so lowBy contract, sales second to none, savings,Roll'd far back, and rolled 'pon Mom and PopAll hope abandon ye who enter here."

Such characters from spray paint can had tag'dOver the doorway's magic glass had driedWhereat I thus: "Greeter, these words impartHarsh meaning." He was well prepar'd, replied"Here thou must all distrust behind the leave;Here be all thy fears extinguish'd. Ye are hereWhere I have told thee ye shall see the dealsSee Rollback's might, 'gainst 'nobler' retail chainsWho've lost." And when his hand he had stretch'd forthTo mine, with paper ad, whence I was cheer'dInto that wretched place he urged me on.

...

Between two aisles of food, both equallyPast due, revolting, first a man might dieOf hunger, should from these he had to chooseE'en so would stand condemn'd between plagueOf spoiled foods, and bread of stone and mold.

E'en so between two sales the wolf would stand,Wherefore, if I selected, one or bothI to my peers impute, there equal chanceOf either fate, but of necessityIt happen'd. Silent was I, yet savvyWas painted in my looks, and thus I placedMy cart more full that it had been before.

...

From the first aisle I descended thusDown to the second, which, a fresher spaceDisplaying, so much more of cheap contentsAmidst the shoppers' moans. There, Mayo standsDripping with ghastly remnant: this, of allThat sit here, careful reading policyGives discount, a bonus for damaged goods,Around me more jars soon hit the ground:And right before me comes gravity's hand,It wore sun dresses; should I judge severeher sins, considering this retail hellSees the transgression, with its eyes so highThe shelf aplenty with more jars behindTo fall with prices. Behind her standsAnother num'rous throng; and each one takesDented can of savings, grins, and paysThe rate, now downward of the product label.

"O thou! who to this retail store of woeApproachest?" when she saw me watching, criedMiss Hand, releasing jar into her cart,"Look how thou enter here; beware how farThou morals reach; let not the greeter grinDeceive thee here welcome." To her reply:"Wherefore you dropped this? Mayo falls this dayBy greedy hand extended; so 'tis spilledWhere floor and air are one. Ask thou once more?"

Now 'gin remorseless wailings to be heard.Now am I come where many a raiséd voiceAssaults cashier. Into display I cameCondiments stood tall. Burrowing there, ston'd,A youth as of a vagrant's wombOf herbal smoke. The bottom bottles fellAs eager masses dive for Grey Poupon'Pon ground and crash'd against fake tile floorWhen staff arrives after the fervid reapTheir shrieks are heard, their labors laid to wasteAnd blasphemies 'gainst the good Walton instructions.

...

My tastes reviving, that erewhile had stoop'dTo reject former hateful ways, whence thriftO'ercame me wholly, straight ahead I seeSome clothing, discount fashions, which wayTo where I move, more patrons there already.In the third 'partment I arrive, by flow'rsPungent, tasteless, both stale and old, unfedForever, both in care and in water.But shirts, this color'd fabric, printed flawsThrough the dim ballast lights fade shoddy craft:Stank every sense whereon this Wal-mart trod.

Customers, cruel monsters, weird, deranged,Through their base guiltless whim attack as dogsOver the racks of garments promised cheap.Their eyes glare em'rald, red their bottom line,Their bellies large, by appetite they sateWith processed sugars, fast food, chicken wingsfrom hot-bar lines. Clawing displays, as curs,Under the Rollback sign, just one sizeFor which they're screening, oft they're far too small,More X's for this crew. When one of themDescried one, proper sized tee shirt, he pouncedWith claws, like sausage sharpen'd; every rollOf him but trembled. Then my pride, it's qualmsRetreating 'mongst this crowd, gave way to greed,Raised arms and cast them into the clearance rack.

E'en as a man, who willing pays for classTurns rabid, when red label shines, lets fallhis standards, low price the only tasteTo quench this thirst; so dropp'd the Polo stripedOf Chinese replicas, whose lab'rous workNow plummets into the shopping cart of mine.

...

"Oh my! O savings! Savings!" loud exclaim'dShopper, in accent thick of Southern charm:And the loud man, whom no deal passed his eyes,To council me thus spake: "Let not thy breed'Suade thee, for items in here, be sure, are someStocked elsewhere on this road in other stores."Then to that 'vice added, "Wait!" he cried,"Tight sir! Please wander elsewhere if thou wish,Try to find bargain. Through the rest of townNo other chain can match these. Other wares sold

So high, there in the other retail stores,No other place can such economy be found."

Thus I, descending to the fourth section,Plow'd further through the store, past child's clothesMen clearly out of their universe. Ah me!Almighty Walton! in what store thou keep'stClear'd drains, Scrubb'd bubbles, writ on list I held!Wherefore doth this impulse steer far off course?

E'en past the pillows, on cotton linen rows,Against the center aisle, chaos breaksSuch is the dance these sorry vagrants race,Whom more than elsewhere numerous here I found,From one shelf and the other, with wide eyesBoth drown'd in sights of comfort 'gainst their breasts,Then fight each other until one of them quitsSlinking back toward the shelf, looking againExclaiming these, "Why only one set?"Those answering, "And just the one shade?"So still repeating their sorrowful song,They to the opposite side of either shelfTravers'd in horrid circles: then arriv'd,Both back around and through the space betweenConflicting met again. At sight from farI, void of hope, thus spake: "O say, shoppers!What trance is this? Were these, whose pillows thrownHold some bargain, but hidden to mine path?"

One straight replied: "In this poor shelf these allIn view were so comforted, that they chose,Against their current needs, and their wealth,No sale. This simply from some primal urgeWhich they charge forth, search each extremityIn walking in this circle, where their mindsContrary to thine disparts them. In their searchWere other sets, that with less pillow caseThey found, but nay, the missing sets deterThe only standard that here remains."

...

My eyes perusing, noise fills the airSome speech from not too distance place, too wiseTo be a shopper, from yonder sectionSounded, and from afar a brilliant lightA cable signal, so welcome, so brightThe mobs attract'd to its beam. I joined the crowdsTo the vast source of culture, thus inquir'd:

"Say what's this cost? And what other typesFor this here set? What sort of brand is this?"

"Question there for managers," he replied,"E'en now my break approach'st, pardon me,Your quest for answer I shall help thou not."

Never had a plea been so swift dismiss'dThat fell on ears so deaf to one's despairBy shelves of phones, another blue clerk I spiedToward me coming, by pushed my form awayOne youth had followed him, who cried aloud:"Art though stupid, foul servant?" - "Minute please, a minuteI'll need your card again," this clerk replied;"No longer shalt thou hound us, not while thyprecious merch we guard." As one who hearsOf some rear pain he hath sustain'd, whereatOutly he whines; this youth still waiting for gameLock'd behind strong glass. My hope descending stepp'dInto the queue, clerk bade me tending nextTo hear request; but as the register 'proachedHis shift had ended. Soon another line,New line to wait, yet want has faded now,Not worth this torture, queue now bears my leave.

...

The view before my head most children seekEagerly, when I saw the stocked toy racks,Stripp'd bare of order, downed by tiny handsThat yearned for entertainment. I as onewho's shopping, stood attentive: with my eyeNot far could see those unattended kids,All wild as hungry wolves. "I told you guysThis was the spot" -one kid began- "This shelfBears action figure troves. Act quick, guys,Then cheese it, ere our parents soon arrive!"

I noted how the candor of his wordsSpok'd their retreating; for the one he choseHad been which I'd seen first. But nonethelessMy fear was at his paying; idea grewTo right this wrong perchance, take what he held,His disencumbered speech: "Weak sauce you bullyStealing that ninja turtle figurineDescent into the bowels of Wal-mart guests,Is this your goal your only hope?"

Thus he inquiring. "Sue me," I replied,"Your chances, that between us you could take

This from me, which I thieved. Erewhile 'tis trueOnce grasp'd it did your hands, snatch'd up thenDear child, rascals, who their folks evadeWithin these aisles. No large space from gazeOf parents to hide, not between these shelvesYou chose to enter, to seek forth a figureFrom out of my childhood. Lowest priceis that of all, from eBay to R'us,Below even flea markets, sales from a yard. The toyFull well I know: a visage from my youth.I'll yell, your worried parents hear, shockedTo find their missing babe's run off, who nowAsks that they should spend some more." Yet moreI thought of: but I hold it just in mind,For that mine stare fixed past the board game aisleBeyond all the dolls, past toys made for tots.The Lego showcase soon became my prisonAt once, three complete sets had graced my cart;A Star Wars themed collection stole my heartTwo more had joined before I made my leaveAnd like an impulse shopper I pressed on.Instead of shame, a happiness I'd found.

...

Now by a fitness section I proceed,The seventh circle in this store I've foundThe floor been strewn with balls, from sports aboundTheir size and shapes are vast. "Hey, excuse me!"Said angry man; "who threw these ample orbsTo block this pathway, even as thou shop'stSpeak thou, and liberate my walk. Will clerks,who seldom glance upon these floors, pray clean?Already one could trip and fall, then sueYour sorry ass." I thus in answer spake"That work is not mine, already were hereBy some other hand they must have come, and freedThemselves clear from that yonder display.Liability on this matter's plainThe store itself should cede to take the blameAnd yes their bodies here should take the fall.Here therefore to keep the sportings goodRelease me from the accusation sightsWhich thou direct'st towards I." He sighed.He kept not my presence, our paths diverg'dHe towards clothes, mine to floor belowA lesson from complaints I should have learn'd

Then, peering forth from the unchain'd bikes,Rose from a row a lady, bearing skin,Seeming, methought, to lack the bold intent.She look'd around, then scamper'd down the floorIf workers car'd a bit they'd interveneBut lack of int'rest led to stolen waresI spake: "If thou caught'st here to prison go'st.Get of that bike before your theft is found,Where is your brain? and wherefore not with thee?"

She straight replied: "No care of mine, you swine,how rude, what right 'tis of yours, talk of crimeCommitted, yet Wal-mart's coffers still swellWhich victim pains?" She ready had her wordsPepared to counter why she rode away,Whence I so swiftly ask'd. I at onceReplied, remarking: "Who? said'st thou had wronged?Crime is still a crime? Hast thou no moralsNo concept of right?" Then of some delayHer middle digit took to air, she fledThat's fine, no after forth appear'd she more.