NaPM April 14 2014

[ChristopherSea]

Stowaway

Circular racks of Walmart clothes
made the best hiding places
when big brother was seeking.
Inside I was invisible, invincible.
The carpet smelled dusty as I sat
on the iron X in the center
fingering the different fabrics in turn.

One time he never found me.

My tummy grew heavy and hot
once I crawled out and found the cart gone.
I panted, glued to a pole in the center
of the plus sized women’s clothes,
till a man in a blue polo told me to follow him.
He had a yellow-faced pin like the stickers the old lady
gave us after mom paid, reaching from her wheelchair.
After plodding light-headed for years I spied layaway
and my red-faced mom.

just cloudy, My daughter pulled off this same stunt and scared us half to death. We had informed the store and they placed a sales person at the only exit. Five minutes later our little one called out from within one of those clothing rack rounds you write of. You naughty girls! It was a harrowing experience for us all. Your poem vividly evoked that sinking feeling and time dilation (it seemed like an hour). Well done/Chris