Elan Mudrow
Smidgens
All Is Quiet On The Western Storefront
This storefront is a magnet
For the rambunctious
Who fly in through the front doors
Like grenades from the streets
Skidding onto the worn carpet.
Exploding in various ways
Usually as a question
“Can I charge my phone?”
I direct them to the nearest socket.
Today there were four of them
I gave them names
Trump, Hilary, Berne, and Cruz
They leave their phone unattended for hours
Blending in with the chaos
Talking of various things that make sense to some
Looking around in a daze as conversation
Continues, unabated … paying no attention to the array
Of products strewn about
Too easy for the taking
As if they are familiar with being strewn about.
Unfortunately, I am in charge of selling
Strewn abouts. The four must be watched, carefully
Then, knowing they are part of my surveillance,
The fab four move outdoors
I can see them through the large storefront windows
As if I’m watching a large screen television
Their lips move, I’m trying to read them
Their mouths have a frightened,
Worried look of importance
Desperate-like, they are in need of something
There must be some sort of business or war
Being conducted by them
That’s why the phone is left alone.
Ahh, they are multitaskers, I think
And when they come back to retrieve the phone
They ignore it…and
Ask me how much money
Can someone get for an object.
This object could be anything
That appears to have a semblance of value.
Sweat pours down their forehead
Their hands shake
These objects of business and war take shape
They ask “Interested in a gold chain?”
Or “I found this I Pad” Or…
“This is an original poster from the sixties”
“This ring belonged to my mother.”
“Do you need a guitar pedal?”
“How about an effects rack?”
I tell them this is a record store
And by a magic that only they possess
The objects change form
“I have the very first Beatles’ record”
“My uncle has all the Elvis records.
How much are they worth?”
I believe that the rambunctious
Have a magic
They can change solid objects
Ideas, questions and answers
Into different forms, instantly.
This is an important gift
With business or war
And as the one elected to
Take care of the phone
Unplugs it from the wall,
They are off to retrieve
Elvis and the Beatles
21 Comments on “All Is Quiet On The Western Storefront”
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Elan Mudrow 
WOW, this is incredible. My fave line is “As if they are familiar with being strewn about”. This makes such a societal statement–and it’s a heart-grabber.
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Clever and observant. Well done.
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I absolutely loved your poem, wonderful imagery–and I can see the dark humor in all of this.
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Brilliant and entertaining!!!
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This is brilliant
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you are a true storyteller!
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Ingenious image. Clever and amusing at the same time. Bravo!
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Yes, one of my short stories will be coming out this December. I don’t post prose, because most people find it difficult to read past a certain amount of words on WordPress. I believe this is why books will still be the No. 1 form of media people will use for longer things to read.
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like the wryness of your writing. do you write in prose as well?
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This is great! Beautiful wording and story=)
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I like this! I like to people watch. If I`m waiting for for a friend I like to watch people go buy. When I really look at people it`s so interesting to observe what they do.
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Reblogged this on wwwpalfitness.
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…they are part of my surveillance… Love it.
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Brilliant!
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Thanks!
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Again, wonderful images!
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A wonderful weaving of words and images and culture and products and … ooooh, just very nicely done!
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Very imaginative and provocative. This rouses my image bank and my muse muses about that war, that politician, that election, my past….Darn you Elan Mudrow. I had been content to let it all lie. With their lies.
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A wonderful snippet of history; a short story in verse. Genius!
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I think I know this group of kids… and their rhetoric. If the price is right, anything is for sale. Nice that you let them charge their phones; the stores around here won’t even let you use the bathroom! Another winner, Elan! 🙂
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Then they never comprehend that Elvis and the Beatles are part of a past they never knew and the future they look for remains hidden in their own present grasping for an ideal reality they don’t understand…:)
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