Anne Eustace

STORE PANIC IN SANTA LAND

I entered and the red and green lights streamed out to meet me
in friendship and Santa smiled.
I turned and then the aisles were dark and Santa leered..
Where was someone to guide me?
I stumbled, tears forming, a scream almost bursting from my throat.
I was surrounded by shoppers, they all knew
where they were going but I was numbed by a curse.
I could not ask any of them where ladies tops lived.
They were not supposed to help me, I reasoned.
But anyone who worked there could.
I saw in blind relief a man stacking boxes.
I staggered toward him but someone else was quicker.
And they both left me, left me alone
I shrank, I was no longer an adult in terror
But a child who had lost my Mommy.
Or had my Mommy left me on purpose?
Had I truly been that bad?
I remembered this panic, large stores
where I could not find what I wanted.
But there was a prize if I did.
That prize was escape.
Grab it and get out of there.
The nightmare didn't stop
until I saw a chair.
I would sit there amid the eddying shoppers,
the tinsel and the colored lights.
Until some well-meaning soul found me and led me home
Away from Santa Land.

Ann Eustace has been writing since she was six---quite a stretch-- but poetry for only the last 15 years. She was a reference librarian in public libraries and trained as a chaplain. She is also a great- grandmother. Eustace says, "I am bipolar, rheumatoid arthritis and diabetic...but the bipolar is the worst. My assisted living place takes good care of me and I have a fabulous counselor." Her work has appeared in Wordgathering, Lucidity Poetry Journal and Coffee House Poems.