Through Walmart's Doors

A gaze within
A look without

At a blur of a throng
That moves about

Old… young
Fat… thin

Rushing home
Then back again

Eager faces,
Ready checks

Fingers tight on
Back of children’s necks

Tugging at carts
Stuck tightly together

All dressed… all wrong
No matter the weather

Chinese products
Bought chop-chop quick

Out of date products
That makes them sick

A blur of humanity
An unending shout

River of people…
That flows in and out

In and out, …out and in
A blur…a river…a streak

Twenty four hours… each and every day
Seven days a week

poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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