In Hell it is always the holidays.
The cheer-drone of Christmas music
Jing jing jingles through the overstocked
Dust pungent grocery aisles.

The bagel store is always out of whole wheat,
The lunch specials always ended an hour ago,
And rain sounds like an Alabama radio show.
And there is coffee dripping down the side of your hand.

Everybody’s job in Hell is to namedrop authors,
Except yours. Your job is to act interested.
If you don’t fulfill your job requirements, you have
To read Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter twice.

Everywhere you go is a Wal-Mart,
But there are no price tags, and no employees,
And you want to buy something but you can’t, and
What you want is always on the other side.

————

Megan says, “I was born in 1984 in the small town of Decatur, Alabama, home of the Hot Air Balloon Festival. I now live in Birmingham Alabama with my cat and my significant other. I play Ultimate Frisbee and paint scathing watercolors in my downtime. I have a degree in political science. When I was five years old, I sneezed quite hard and dislocated my vertebrae. Things have never been the same since.”