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Saturday, December 18, 2010


Older men rest their aches in recliners
At one end of the mall
Sprawled out and trying to resist looking foolish,
So they fight sleep by keeping an eye open,
Watching for hot young women passing by
There are plenty of them

Stroller speed mixes.
The larger the family, the slower
Single mothers rush by
As if repulsed by the other breeders
They’re different, somehow
Their baggage is less

Young couples walk hand in hand
Some slow, the girl fussy and unhappy
Some brisk, she’s happy so he’s happy
They pick their future stroller speed
And their lot in life
The mall’s what forms it for them

The very old line up at the buffet
And chuckle in common
At the futility of the younger people
They see the fate we all have at the end
How meaningless everything is
Except eating

Many attractive women wonder the malls
Not too young or too old
Their wiggles crying for attention
Even as they do not
They didn’t yet go the route of stroller races
A matter of time and a guy that’ll do

They look good and feel like shit
Each a pain in the ass
Settling for what guy they can accept
Good enough to get them pushing a stroller
And seeking a buzz from purchases
From the mall

I walk out, light a smoke
Stand alone, inhaling and exhaling
Wondering about life and purpose
Depressed, hopeless, enjoying
the cold, lifeless wind
that’s more comforting than the mall

I walk away, glad to be alone.