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The Living Dead in Wal-Mart are Filling Their Carts
The Living Dead
in Wal-Mart are
filling their carts,
frozen pizza,
Teenage Mutant
Ninja turtle perfume,
Frosted flakes,
bikinis,
The living Dead of
Wal-Mart don't have
anxiety attacks
waiting in line
behind three other
zombified roll-back
shoppers, The Wal-Mart
living dead don't
have anxiety attacks
at the register
and have trouble breathing
and try to call their husbands
and tell him over the phone
"I'm having a panic attack at
Wal-Mart,"
but the cashier doesn't know
and wants to tell you about
the thing she is knitting for her
new nephew and you smile
and say "that sounds lovely,"
but the living dead
are getting closer
with their fried DVD's
and Brittany Spears toasters
and you run as fast as
you can back to the car
and scream
Outstanding poem. I really like the metaphor of Wal-Mart shoppers as living zombies, engaging in the banality of consumer culture.
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