I can’t even go into Walmart
Without some extraterrestrial type
Looking or saying something
That jumps on my amygdala,
And bugs me for hours.
And I can’t go into Walgreens
Without passing a surly associate
Who doesn’t want to be there,
Without hearing a song from the seventies
That brings back feelings
Of being trapped in an elevator
(With an associate from Walgreens)
And I can’t go into Starbucks
Without knowing I’m being ripped off,
But nevertheless hand over the bucks
To the grumpy barista,
And take the gruesome coffee
As finally I’ve made up my mind
To look at last
For a Keurig machine
So I don’t have to put myself through this bitter hell
And I can’t go to a restaurant
Without some dopey brat
As her intellectually challenged
Laugh and look around
To see if we’re enjoying their kids
As much as they are.
Yet I reserve my tears for the movies,
The cinema that died
Such a long time ago.
It’s not just Britney
Texting throughout the film
Or the grossly overweight pensioners
Jamming popcorn into their mouths.
It’s what these actors
Have done to our people,
Brought a darkness instead of light
Into their lives.
Spewed propaganda in between takes,
Because they can.
The joy and happiness
We often found,
In years gone by,
When fantasy was the escape
We wanted, and needed, at times.
Now there is no escape,
Or even a reality,
It’s now all one and the same.