Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Black Friday

It’s Friday,
and America is shopping.
Buying gifts
for one another,
trampling each other,
spraying each other
with mase,
shoving,
grabbing,
yelling
and screaming.
Isn’t it festive?
Isn’t it fun?
Hunting for a parking space,
the lights,
the glitter,
the crying,
the Santas,
the groaning of husbands who’d rather be home
watching t.v.
than smelling body lotion
and sorting through slippers.
Ah Chrsitmas!
When I was a kid
I used to go shopping with my mother and sister.
We’d set the alarm clock,
and crawl out of our beds and into the darkness
like three vampires.
We’d search through mountains of sweaters,
and ties,
and shirts,
and pants,
and buy slippers for my father in EE width.
We’d buy nightgowns
for my mother that she’d never wear
and spend hundreds on the latest gadgets we’d play with for a week
then they'd end up stuck in a closet for years.
We’d open presents and drink Eggnog and argue
and no one would ever feel any better
from what was underneath the tree.