Black FridayA Poem by Kenneth The Poet
black friday is dead,
gone the way of minerva's legend and the mithras cult, the lines have returned to normal, the crowds have gone back to drinking and beating the living s**t out of each other in the privacy of their own homes and bars, the rush was crazy, the lines were long the night before, but now tumbleweeds roll down the action alleys like dust in negative topsoil alley, there is just silence, the occasional binging of the register puking till tape and the ever-present cashier acting themselves into accidental youtube infamy, one is only as bored as one chooses to be, the contrast is stark, the rational animals have submitted to their rational sides again, at least on the retail side again, of course, there is always next year © 2012 Kenneth The PoetReviews
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2 Reviews Added on November 24, 2012 Last Updated on November 24, 2012 AuthorKenneth The PoetBismarck, NDAboutKenneth The Poet is an optimist wrapped in the candy shell of moroseness and cynicism. He lives between the two parallels marked 46 and 49, all while living in the state marked 39. He pretends that he.. more.. |

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