10-Line Tuesday

December 17, 2013


I felt it, yesterday, passing the parking lot at Target. That gnawing dread 
of the holiday storm, a flurry of shoppers jockeying in the aisles,
the cataclysm of the checkout followed by late-night wrapping followed
by a theater of unwrapping and the morning dross of paper piles.
Of course, complaint like this is a luxury, like a transcontinental trip
on a cramped airliner, grimacing at how close your knees are to the back 
of the seat in front of them while you gather distance at a mystifying clip.
But then, arrival, and you peel yourself from the plane and walk 
the long hallway into the arms of someone you love, forgetting the ride
entirely. And you put the luggage down and hold your hands out wide.