It Was A Black, Not Good, For Walter Vance, Friday - Poem by Joe Rosochacki
It was the blackest Friday for a TARJAY customer,
His CRUMPLED BODY,
not one shopper
did help him,
Their after Thanksgiving sale,
they shan't deter
The in store sales after Thanksgiving turkey and all its trimmings,
and after all the football games, was a tradition
Walter Vance, the 61-year-old pharmacist, who reportedly suffered from a prior heart condition,
-later died in hospital, reports MSNBC.
Flat screen TVS, X-Boxes, Wii systems
Whose prices that were so low,
It was not for faint of heart,
Ask Walter Vance,
WHO laid helplessly dying
As the supposedly 'good Samaritans',
Some of them trod on Walter as he anguished in pain,
Wasn't that insane!
What was Walter thinking when he decided
to a get a deal of a lifetime?
Too bad for his death,
I figured his death would be not be the last,
Because I'm afraid black Fridays are here to stay,
And I fear the blackness, not redness, consuming the entire days of the week.
Thursday until Wednesday,
Until Christmas Day
I would've guessed by now,
after news about black Fridays, the crowds.
Jostling to get position for the 'lost leaders' in the big box stores,
should have been known to Mr. Vance,
That he, at his age and condition,
would not stand chance
Wrestling the overwhelming sea of humanity
Whose current only goes one way,
That current added to the strife,
That would help him end his life.
I would guess that he would've gladly face pepper spray.
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