Humanity on Parade

Stuck in Town.
Now I am a retail prisoner.
Before me the 'Food Court',
Saccharine smells,
Blend with coffee and grease.
I scan looking for the rest rooms.
A long narrow passage lit with blinking fluorescence.
Meanders into the Bessa-brick anals of the building.
Framed posters of consumerist decadence on peeling paint.
"Ah a bookstore",
Perhaps it has the new book,
I heard about on the radio,
In my, 'next bookstore four hundred kilometres', rural home.
But no,
False pretences,
Book clearance centre in guise of 'nice rustic book emporium'.
Chain stores and bargain, clearance, retail outlets.
And walking like zombies,
Overloaded with Christmas shopping,
Those for which this retail experience is normal.
Humanity on parade.
I make my escape,
With only a couple of completely superfluous purchases.
I feel almost dirty with the shame of it.
I am off to find a public park,
And a shady tree.