An Ode to the Sale Season’s End

It’s a different kind of “high“.
Almost like a circus, bordering on a scene from the End of Days.
Frenzy, madness, chaos.
You feel one with everyone…focused on one goal.
Finding. the. perfect. steal.
And GETTING OUT ALIVE.A psychedelic ride on a kaleidoscope
Flashes of reds and yellows blind you
You scram, sort, and sprint, almost afloat
On one rack to the next, and the next, and the next….
Time is like a traitor, it is giving but never enough.

Stationary forces beyond the counter stand
Awaiting our absolution.
Sounds of the red laser beam clicks–
Stimulates my own glee and wonder
That for every closet that smiles, will a wallet turn into a frown?

Until the euphoria wears out…I remain.

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The Communications Editor loves rock n' roll, food trips and is a self-proclaimed, arbiter of taste.

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