Lo

See thee the childe

See thou the arc of his arms?

The flailing of his feet?

See thou how the cans are strewn before him?

How he strikes them down in every instant?

Hark, friend, and witness!

His screams, they echo throughout the land

As his cries bring tears,

To red-shirted serfs

See, now the devastation as it is wrought.

He lays waste to aisles,

Besieges shopping carts,

And embattles the ignorant passerby

Know now, that Target shall never be the same

That his war-dance will echo in this place

And all the tales of its people

And lo!

Hwæt!

He is drawn away!

His mother

Suffering in his path

Must pay her tithe,

And leave this place forevermore!

She drags him,

Teeth gritted,

To the self-checkout gates

And pulls him,

With somber manner,

Through the doors

Surely, he is banished!

Never to return!

But this place shall not be free of him yet, weary traveler!

For though isles of pickles and chips may be free,

And employees,

Clad in so many hues of red,

May think themselves free of his assault,

The rampage has merely begun!

Now watch

Kin

As he wages war by elevator gates.

As shoppers run

To dodge his wake.

And his mother battles

To drag him forward.

Her steed is in the parking garage,

She cries,

Strung ‘tween childe and cart,

And they must first ride this iron stair to reach it!

“No,”

Replies the childe,

Stamping on the ground,

“Bonbons

Bombons

I want bonbons!”

But see

He cannot fight forever!

And she is old!

And wise!

And clever!

She drags through those steely gates

And on, to lower floors, they go

To find their metal steed of old

And make for Eastside

Their fine home