holiday shopping

i take a day off
from work
to go Christmas shopping.
it's too early
to start drinking,
so i don't.
I stare at the bottle of
Russian vodka
in the ice box.
the tonic water and lime.
I look at the untouched
fruit cake
that my father sent me.
thirty pounds of hardened goo.
re-gifting crosses my mind,
but there is no one
that I dislike that much.
my circle of friends
that i must reciprocate gifts
for has shrunken
down to just a few.
death and distance has taken
its toll. some have become
devout atheists and are
going to hell
in a handbasket, so
the list is short.
life is short.
it's cold out, where are my gloves?
but I digress.
everyone has everything
already.
who doesn't have a toaster
oven,
or a food processor by now?
how much lingerie
or pairs of fuzzy slippers
can a woman have?
I sit in my car and stare
out at the vast
parking lot of the shopping mall,
excuse me,
I mean towne center,
the acres of cars.
it's almost time to go in.
I see the salvation army santa
putting out his cigarette
beneath his unshined
boot,
he rings his bell in his slow
methodical way, adjusting his
yellowed beard.
I break some smelling salts
under my nose,
take a sip of my black
coffee. I go in.