An Ode to the Sale Season's End

It's a different kind of "high".
Almost like a circus, bordering on a scene from the End of Days.
Frenzy, madness, chaos.
You feel one with everyone...focused on one goal.
Finding. the. perfect. steal.
And GETTING OUT ALIVE.

A psychedelic ride on a kaleidoscope
Flashes of reds and yellows blind you
You scram, sort, and sprint, almost afloat
On one rack to the next, and the next, and the next....
Time is like a traitor, it is giving but never enough.

Stationary forces beyond the counter stand
Awaiting our absolution.
Sounds of the red laser beam clicks--
Stimulates my own glee and wonder
That for every closet that smiles, will a wallet turn into a frown?

Until the euphoria wears out...I remain.