Customers have torn open the Christmas
chocolates. Shoving it in mouths,
shopping bags, children’s eyes.
Quiet. We are shopping. as. a. family.
Smoke accordions out of Santa’s mailbox. The sprinkler system
hisses stale air. Custodians ride by on their metal cart laughing,
sanitation chemicals flickering out of buckets.
The 80 year-old piano player is hammering out Schoenberg.
Customers shove lamps into their shopping bags, shove children
into them.
Turn on the light Jimmy.
The ninth floor is barricaded off by old woman. They
have turned the clearance divans on their sides
and are throwing toasters. Down in the basement,
the security staff have locked themselves into 2’ by 2’
cells. Fetally-positioned, their panting echoes off stone walls. Static
sizzles on the array of sixteen camera screens. Customers
have begin to bow in the reinforced door next to the two-way mirror.
A fat man is leaning against it. He has been dead
for over an hour. Restaurant staff are tearing
down the great tree. Ornaments funnel down pop-crashing
upwards from the floor. Three pound ceramic dinnerware crashes
into the walnut bar The customers are putting mattresses in their bags,
they are putting the offices in their bags. Human resources
are backed into the employee orientation computer lab. Customers
have poured Starbucks on the circuit-breakers. The lights are dimming,
Escalators are jamming. Children scream
I want to see Santa.
Santa is dead. Employees calmly walk over  his protruding
belly. The velvet and fat feels good on tired
feet. An inhuman voice garbles
The store will be closing.
Families grab onto shelves, racks, other
families. Employees pick up the registers and slam
them on granite counters. Coins explode out like bells. The rotating
doors are not spinning. They are stuck, crunching on limbs.

I've heard people speak of those impenetrable moments of time,when a brief span of eternity is suspended, forever frozen , in those annals of our minds that we call memories. Like a leaf caught in the ancient mud and then crushed by the weight of millions of sunsets and sunrises, artifacts of  a bygone day, where it had hung -suspended - in a tree that no longer exists .  No  hint of its toil and struggle is left , except for that-now fossilized-leaf which eventually surfaces-to be viewed and marveled at -from time to time.
  "I will never forget where I was when Kennedy was killed " they mourn.
   "I will never forget how I felt when I saw MAN walk on the moon. " They marvel
    "I will never forget the moment I first lay eyes on my newborn baby" They beam
    And I will never forget that frozen image, that mortal wound or that crushing weight of fear - I felt weighing down on me like that leaf must have felt-as I watched Macys image recede in the rear -view mirror. He stood there in the middle of the street-a stoic image-with arm raised in good bye, a silent salute as he slowly  diminished in the distance -becoming just a tiny dot before disappearing completely - to be replaced by the sudden appearance of a lone rider on a motorcycle - impatiently waiting to go  -  who then rolled out of that mirrors eye to fly past me in a rush of speed and roar of engine as he hurled himself into that same future, that I was no longer in such a hurry...
.....to be absorbed by.

“So good to be checked in on :)”


<>

so informed, I’m thinking,
yes, I know,
it is a spécialité de ma maison,
checking in on far and dear, not so near, ones,
periodically.

ask myself why,
and the answer comes easy,
intrusion and extrusion.

the pleasant shock of stumbling into an old friend,
both stuck in the revolving door at Macys Herald Square,
which is odd because it’s DECADES since I was there.

there are many outposts on the poetry cables
who have received this SOS, and the inevitable outcome is
a new poem commissioned and perhaps, no admission,
that’s the why and the wherefore surely so purely selfish.

need a guide to help me pick apples and pumpkins,
which is not in my wheelhouse of expertise,
thinking you could give me a boost,
so selfish, you see, picking up the pieces of fall(ing)
and poem titles from, then for, friends.

for you never know
when and how well,
cinnamon apple and pumpkin cream pie
soothes the souls from home grown tumult,
with hot tea.

SOs, how ya doing?

just checking in...

<>
9/12/19

YOU were soft velvet and spring water .I was root beer and DVDs
You were Macys and all its magic and I was the army and navy store
But I loved you than as I do now and will always
You were opera and concert music I was gospel pop
You were candlelight dinners with place mats
I was Mcdonalds  fries and burgers iced tea
You were Runway fashion and political talk
I was cars and backpacks and in spite of our differences we were blessed with  a brief span of time and I had to convince you that  our love would last
Even  if you had serious doubts and maybe I should have listened
To caution's voice whispering inside my head as you did
But I 've always been a stubborn fool, now I wait here for the lonely years to come  and will say in spite of fate's final decree
That I loved you than as I do now and will always

Thanksgiving is almost here,
annoying school bells have stopped ringing.
Turkeys are huddling, out of sight,
and the garbage men are singing.

We’re beginning to prep side dishes,
slicing, dicing, mashing, peeling,
and I’m smiling ‘cause I feel myself
swept up in holiday feelings.

I hope that Macys is ready
for their seasonal parade.
We’ll be watching as we start to cook
the banquet that we’ve made.

I’m wishing everyone plenty,
as we shelter in our homes.
On this tame 2020 holiday,
that we’re spending home alone.

There was nothing I could do. I was a man now as of 4 hours and 22 minutes ago and thus needed to secure myself a job. I could no longer just sit in my room ******* and eat bowls of cereal and resign myself to nothing any longer, nor naively pursue a career in music that wasn't going to happen; I was talented but perhaps I didn't have the drive? I had to get a job. I had to 'do something', so I went online and found the first thing that popped up. It was Macys, a general clerk so I applied and of course the questionnaire was 3 pages and tested my aptitude. Did I have an IQ above room temperature? If so that'd make me a cashier, if not a boxboy. I ended up as a dressing room attendant.
     The interview was fine and was my first. I wore my dad's blue shirt and some shoes I stole a week previous since I didn't feel the need to buy shoes I'd likely be wearing once I rationalized.
I sat in the waiting room and it was before social media and smart phones so I thumbed through some magazines for thirty minutes then was eventually called. The interviewer seated me in a plushy red throne, and he had a nice haircut.
"So what brings you to Macy's" he said to me bluntly.
"I like this store. I shop here a lot and feel like I'd be a good fit" which was a lie; I never in my life shopped there.
" Okay, and tell me a time where you encountered a struggle, and how did you resolve it?"
I had to think for a moment, actually several moments and we sat there in uncomfortable silence for what seemed minutes. I was nervous.
"Ummm, a time I encountered a struggle and had to resolve it? Well there was a little dog that got hit in front of my house before, and all the kids were crying and I consoled them and performed CPR on that dog and he ended up surviving but died later in the hospital. and it was pretty traumatic and a lot of blood"
"okay that sounds heartbreaking, but moreso an experience that relates to working in a retail store"
"I used to sell cookies door to door"
"Yes that seems more relevant" he said while marking his clipboard.
And the interview went on and I felt for sure I blew it, but I shook his hand firmly like I'd always been told and looked him in the eye.
"Thank you, I really appreciate the opportunity" I told him while exiting.
always show gratitude they'd say; well I wasn't grateful and didn't want that job, but I read enough how-to's online. it was an act, an audition and I think I gave a good enough performance. A few days later I got the call and was told to come in for orientation.
I was trapped. It was the beginning.