February 20, 2012


At the mall
pilgrims stare into windows,
voyeurs to their own
latest desires,
faithfully toting bags
bearing the names
of their gods,
receipts proof
they have given everything
and more,
their existence real now,
allowing them to leave
with a clear conscience.
To buy nothing
is the greatest sin,
the lost seen wandering
by the road,
pushing broken carts
filled with used-up longings,
never to enter in.