Sunday, January 22, 2012

Macy's in the snow

I watch the rusty shopping carts roll by like a train of the wounded. Snow covered and dripping with half formed icicles, they are rushed into the heated store with the frantic pace of the dying. 
Aware of the peril, I place my heels against the rough ground of the grate, fearing lest I should be rushed into the warmth along with the metal carts on squeaking wheels that always turn just a little bit too far to the right. 

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