Everything Looks like a Target

Steven D. Schroeder





Kid, Black Friday nighthawks dart at the red
Eyes of logo, tag, and security guard, slide

Electronics inside lampshade containers packed
In the trash compactor, then fake a shark attack.

Some guy wants a padlock, duct tape, duffel, shovel
And lye? Never mind why when line lengths double—

Tell him to try aisle nine. We must undercut
Costco casket sellers, and undercover

Surveys say the ways to reach these people
Are laser guidance or advertisements for raffles

They’ve won. If shopping-basket bombers write
Our softlines off, scatter yourself as potpourri
Over rows of soap and candles infused with rose.

 

 







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