There, on the linoleum beneath flourescent tubes
the battle line has been drawn, harshest war of all.
Warriors stand ready to fight until the bitter end
for a most coveted prize: the final Barbie Doll.
Every age stands there, young and old alike
veins protruding on each brow, salon 'doos atremble
knowing that this treasured prize will go
to the one who is most nimble.
The buzzer sounds, a blue light lights,
battle cries echo down aisle twenty-four.
Baskets bounce and skid and slam
into others who want it more.
Faster than an Olympic luge, stronger than a bull
one granny pulls a stunt that would make a wrestler blush
and hastily pull out a pen to quickly jot down notes
as her cart hits another, another shopper crushed.
It's not enough to grab it, she must take it to the door
with the herd of angry shoppers closely on her heels.
I'm reminded of Ben Hur and the infamous chariot race,
though without the Romans, horses and the spikey wheels.
So it goes this time of year, always without fail
when normally sane people shop and get most crazed.
Instead of getting trampled by the consumer mob again
I think I'll play it safe and stay home for the holidays.