Walking Mall Blues
Walking through a mall triggers instant angst,
fluorescent glare, glitter of chrome, a glass enclosed formica palace
full of fetid air and sodden food, eyesmarting residue
of synthetic fibers and flatulent fat men,
a banal parade of sixty-seven brands of sneakers.
Muzak for galumphing shoppers, ersatz music of the synthesizer,
syncopation of electronica, glass-shattering teen pop
exploding eardrums, Grateful Dead waking the dead.
Mozart, Bach apoplectic, Stradiverius plugs his ears.
Prosperity run amok, little everyman hypnotized,
stuffed to the gills with stuff, detritus of rainmaker deals
cranked out by third-world kids fills the caverns
of K-Mart, K-Mart and K-Mart.
Suits with cigars call the shots, greed the smog of the day.
Good guys finished last playing with a loaded deck.
Vacuous values stick to the young like fly-paper.
Ennui is epidemic, "La Dolce Vita" has arrived.
Shopperholics abound, credit cards maxed out.
Can body piercing help you to feel more alive?
Milton P. Ehrlich