Your nimble fingers
secrete the stray
merchandise at Main
Street's Almighty
Dollar Store -
a place brimming with
inanimate objects made in
Japan and China,
transported into your bulky
winter coat's four
outside pockets
Hide that pack of gum,
those ballpoint pens,
mechanical pencils, tiny
spiral bound notebooks that
fit so easily
Conceal that paperback best seller
you were looking through earlier,
the one titled "Where is God?"
in bold red type superimposed
against a threatening gray sky
Grab that bracelet for your wife,
that string of pearls too
and don't forget a bib for the
baby, a knickknack to brighten
your mother's dingy living
room and remember to take
those black leather gloves
so perfect for the
months ahead
With your heart racing,
move toward the exit door,
walk - don't run - avoid
eye contact - that's it -
keep going, but slowly
And then, as you take a few
steps forward outside,
someone from behind roughly
grabs your shoulders
As you turn around, those
gloves fall out
of a crowded pocket,
landing on the
snowy sidewalk
The hefty security
guy retrieves the
gloves and nudges
you back into the
warmth of the store
Somewhere in the
distance, carolers
are singing "Silent Night"