There are faces of every countenance,
enough to light up a room with its brilliance.
Disgust, dismay and disillusionment are
poured into an emotional basket of
meaningless purchases.
These are the holidays, met with tacit cheer.
Still, signs of revelry abound in this atmosphere.
Little ones pick and prod at packages of
cellophane wrapped goodies, while mother
engages in the latest tabloid fodder.
The Golden Arch stays true to its commission, as
a famished soul satiates unrelenting groans by
whittling away french fries in 60 seconds or less,
a sequence that could only be
described as poetic justice.
The procession meanders down to a minuscule
version of its former self, as the miracle of
patience yields an end to an oppressive event.
